Can Things Change

Once everyone was settled into their seats, Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a small beaded bag.  Upon seeing the bag, both Aurora and Ron gave it twin looks of disgust. 

“Why do you still have that blasted thing?” Ron scowled. Everyone in the room looked at the bag more closely then. It was a rather pretty bag, the girls thought, nothing to be getting up in arms about.

“What's wrong with it? It's just a bag,” Sirius asked, confused and curious about these people from the future.

“It’s nothing Padfoot, you’ll just learn more about it in the seventh book,” Aurora said looking at her godfather. It was the first time she had actually looked at him since they arrived, Sirius noticed and what he saw in her eyes made him sad and worried about what his goddaughter could have seen for her to have eyes that looked like that. 

“You know my nickname?” He decided to ask instead, knowing now wasn’t the time to get into things with her about her past - future - this time travel thing had him a little unsure on tenses.

“Of course I do. I know lots of things about you guys,” she replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she looked from him, to Prongs, then to Lily and back again.

“Ro,” Hermione interrupted, pulling a book out of the bag that started this discussion in the first place, “they will learn all of our secrets too. And as a matter of fact Ronald,” she turned to the red head beside her, “the extension charm on this bag, while not difficult was very time consuming and I would prefer to not have to cast all the charms on another bag again, and the ones for sale in Diagon Alley are really not up to par.”

Neville reached over and grabbed the book from Hermione, startling her out of her rant and said, “Who would like to read first?”

Remus summoned the book to himself, “I will,” he said while opening it

Before he could start Fred looked around the room at each person, “There are going to be some things in these that don’t make people look good. To make things easier on everyone we can have the room restrict magic usage if you would like or we can trust people. But the first hint of cursing people and we will lock up your wands. Are we understood?” Aurora just beamed up at Fred, clutching her necklace in one hand and her boyfriend's hand in the other.  Everyone looked a little startled and just nodded their heads in agreement.

Remus cleared his throat and read the title, “Aurora Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.”

Dumbledore sent the girl a look, what was she doing with his friend's stone. Did something happen to Nicolas and Pernelle?

“Chapter 1: The Girl Who Lived:” McGonagall began.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. 

“You’re very welcome,” Fabian and Gideon Prewitt said at the same time, causing all the time travelors to turn and look at Fred with a wry smile on their faces.

They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. 

“What does that mean?” Kingsley said, leaning forward in his chair, sure that he’s not going to like the answer.

“Anything not like them,” Ron started, 

“Especially magic,” Aurora finished.

Lily looked like she had finally remembered where she had heard the name Dursley before and looked to her daughter, “I’m not gonna like this at all am I?” The only answer that she received was a sad head shake from Aurora.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. 

“Here Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said with a smile, levitating a notebook and fountain pen to him before he could ask what drills were. “Write down any questions that you have and I’ll answer them during a non reading time.” Seeing the confused look on his face about the items in his hands she continued, “These are a notebook, which is lined paper, to help keep everything condensed, and a fountain pen, it's like a quill that holds a larger supply of ink that can last for several months normally before needing to be refilled. When it does finally run out you replace the ink cartridge inside it instead of dipping it in an inkwell.”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically and wrote down ‘Drills?’

Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.  

“Yes that does sound like Petunia,” Lily sighed, shooting a small glance over at Severus and saw a slight uptick to his jaw before he schooled his face again.

The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.  

“Sounds like your mother describing you,” Barty said to Regulus, causing the Slytherin to glare at the Ravenclaw, before nodding with a laugh. 

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.  

“Why does it matter to them, the Potters are great people,” Peter asked. He loved James, and thought that Charlus and Dorea were some of the best parents a person could ask for. They doted on James, but they also loved him and Remus and took in Sirius as if he was their own child as well.

“It’s my sister,” Lily said sadly. “She hates magic. Hates that I have magic and she doesn’t.” The marauder’s nodded at her, and Alice reached over Frank and the side of their loveseat to reach out and grab Lily’s hand for a quick squeeze. She knew how much the topic of Petunia Evans hurt Lily.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, 

“So it’s gotten even worse then,” Lily said.

Aurora nodded and added, “Unfortunately when you introduce her and Uncle Vernon to dad in two weeks it gets much worse than it is now, and I think that’s what causes the final split on her end. You still tried, but you know how Aunt Petunia can be.”

because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. 

“James is not good for nothing,” Sirius yelled out. 

At his outburst, Remus finally snapped. “Will you all be quiet for one minute. I’ve not even got through the first page, at this rate it’ll be next year before we even finish the chapter.” Seeing the snickering faces of his friends and Lily, Alice and Marlene, he sighed, “You were doing it on purpose.”

“Well it’s just so funny when you lose your temper Moony,” Ginny added.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small daughter but they had never even seen her. This girl was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. 

“What if I don’t want my daughter mixing with their son,” James mumbled, the only ones to hear him were Lily and Remus.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.  

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter 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. 

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.  

“That is not how you discipline children,” Molly said. 

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map.  

“Minnie!” All the Marauder’s yelled.

 “What are you doing there Minerva?” Augusta asked her long time friend.

“I have no idea. And how many times do I have to tell you to not call me Minnie,” McGonagall said glaring at the Marauder’s.

“Only once more Professor Minnie,” Aurora said, before her father could. James just beamed at his daughter while the Professor’s looked scared that there was another one, apparently just like her father, yet McGonagall’s lips twitched a little bit, fighting off a smile.

For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. 

Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.  

“Idiot muggle,” Lucius sneared. 

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.  

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.  

“What’s wrong with cloaks?” Amos asked.

“Muggle’s stopped wearing cloaks years ago,” Ted replied. 

“In terms of fashion and technology, the wizarding world is several hundred years behind,” Andromeda added. The blood purists in the room looked at her with disdain, while Narcissa just turned her nose up at her older sister.

Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. 

Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it.  

The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.  

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. 

“Why are so many owls being seen. They are usually much more discrete, even when sending letters in the middle of the day,” Pandora asked.

“You’ll find out shortly,” Aurora replied.

Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.  

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road 

“Wait, Moony, did that just say that he walked?” Aurora asked.

“Yes it does,” he replied, looking at Aurora strangely.

to buy himself a bun from the bakery.  

“Oh that makes more sense,” Aurora sighed in relief, it would really be the end of the world if Uncle Vernon actually did any exercise, worse than Voldemort coming back again.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.  

This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.  

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"  

" — yes, their daughter, Aurora —"  

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. 
“Would’ve made life easier,” Aurora said.

“Man can you imagine,” Fred nodded back.

“Fred!” Molly scolded, “We do not speak that way of others.”

Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.  

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. 

Potter wasn't such an unusual name. 

“Yes it is, the only Potter’s left are James and his parents,” Marlene said.

“It’s a very common last name in the Muggle world,” Lily said. 

James just nodded, “It is. It’s why the Wizengamot tried to have us removed from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Said it was too Muggle.”

"It was ridiculous, is what it was. The Potter's predate the Wizengamot," Amelia said. "And half of the Sacred Twenty-Eight aren't even British anymore or they have died out."

He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a daughter called Aurora. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece was called Aurora.  

He'd never even seen the girl. It might have been Amanda. Or Alice.  

“He didn’t know your name?” Lily asked, shocked.

Aurora just shrugged, she still wasn’t sure her uncle knew her name.

There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that…  but all the same, those people in cloaks…  

James just wrapped an arm around Lily and hugged her to him when he noticed the tears forming in her eyes. Severus looked longingly at her for a moment before remembering who he was sitting next to, and that he had made his choice.

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.  

"Sorry," he grunted, 

“He apologized?” Aurora whispered to her couch mates, shocked.

as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"  And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. 

“Gone?” Everyone said at the same time. His followers or the future followers that he was meant to mark in two days on Samhain were stunned that he could be defeated, while the others were all celebrating.

“But if he’s gone, then why would there be another war with him,” Sirius asked.

Aurora just nodded towards the book, her throat too clogged to answer.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. 

“But imagination is the foundation of life,” Fabian said.

“Where would humans be if not for imagination,” Gideon continued.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning.  

It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.  

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. 

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.  

“Why are you there Professor?” Frank looked towards his favorite teacher.

“As this has yet to happen I do not currently have an answer for that Mr. Longbottom,” she replied.

“Well I was just transported back several years,” Neville laughed.

Was this normal cat behavior? 

“Well it’s normal Minnie behavior,” Alice and Marlene said at the same time.

“You as well now girls?” McGonagall said, lips twitching at them.

“Now Minerva dear, it’s a bit of harmless fun,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.  

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:  

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"   

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, 

“That’s your name dad!” Tonks yelled.

Ted just smiled down at his daughter, “Yes it is dear, but I am not a muggle newscaster.”

"I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."  

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters… 

“He’s figuring it out,” Narcissa said. “If this man can then surely other muggle’s can.”

“Not really,” Lily argued. “Vernon already knows about magic. As much as he wouldn't want to admit it, he knows it exists so part of him knows what all these things mean. Other muggles who don’t know about the wizarding world wouldn’t immediately jump to magic as the cause of everything going on. They would more than likely think it was something religious.”

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" 

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.  

James pulled Lily onto his lap to comfort her.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"  

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"  

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.  

"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."  

“I hate that phrase,” Aurora said.

“I know, it almost sounds like the Death Eaters when they are talking about Mudbloods,” Hermione said. Everyone turned to stare at her when she said mudblood. “What I am one, I’m proud of it. My blood doesn’t define me, infact, my squib ancestor is actually a Rosier, who was abandoned for being a squib about four generations ago."

Lucius and Narcissa looked at the girl thoughtfully, while Lily looked at this girl - who was apparently such good friends with her daughter and embraced all the bad aspects of their world and turned them into something if not good, but something to work with - with such pride.

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their daughter — she'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't she?"  

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.  

"What's her name again? Alice, isn't it?"  

"Aurora. Nasty, freak, if you ask me." 

“My daughter would have followed the Black tradition, while a boy would have a family name from Lily’s side,” James scowled.

“You would have named me Harry - well Harrison - if I was a boy,” Aurora said. “You did still follow mum’s flower tradition for a girl though, my middle name is Jasmine.”

“I always wanted to name my daughter Jasmine,” Lily smiled at her daughter, “And Harry is my favorite grandfather's name. Probably where I got my magic now that I think about it. He wasn’t surprised when we told him I was a witch.”

“He is,” Hermione said. “I did Aurora’s family tree, and she told me after her Gringotts inheritance test.”

“Third book,” Aurora said.

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."  

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.  

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, could he be doing what he thinks he is going to do.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.  

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them… 

“Well now he went and jinxed it,” Regulus said. 

How very wrong he was.  

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. 

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.  

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.  

The Gryffindor’s all cheered, only one person noticing the tight smile on Aurora’s face. She wasn’t sure what to think of her former headmaster any more. She understood to an extent why he had done things the way he chose, but some of his choices had caused her so much pain that could have been avoided if he had just shared a little bit of information.

She respected his position, but the man himself, she just wasn’t sure on if she ever would again.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. 

“I believe I just did not care.”

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."  

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.   

He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. 

“Wicked,” Peter said at the same time as Fabian and Gideon.

Ron pulled it out of his pocket and flicked it pulling the lights in the room into it. “Yes it is.”

“Moony, we need one,” James said to his friend as Ron flicked all the lights back on.

“No you do not Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, her eyes narrowed at Remus who looked thoughtful.

Twelve times he clicked the Put Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.  

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."  

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.  

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."  

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.  

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."  

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.  

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."  

She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."  

“It was, Dad arrested him the next day,” Fred said.

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."  

“But that’s only four years from now,” James said, looking to the future group for clarification.

“Yes,” Aurora nodded. He was defeated on October 31st, 1981 at 6:34 pm. This chapter is November 1st.”

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."  

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?" 

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore.  

"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?" 

"A what?"  

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."  

“And that he puts calming potions in,” Luna said airily. 

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"  

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." 

Several people flinched. Aurora rolled her eyes and flopped on Fred dramatically. Fred looked down at her lovingly while everyone else looked at her confused. “You’re going to have to get over that, Ray had never been one to call him You-Know-Who. It is always Voldemort in her first year or she will sometimes call him Tom or Riddle after her second year.”

Several people nodded, while Alastor looked at Dumbledore angrily, “Tom Riddle, the half-blood Slytherin 3 years ahead of me, is Voldemort.”

The Voldemort followers in the room looked shocked. There is no way that their leader is a half-blood. 

Dumbledore just nodded sadly at his friend.  

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name." 

Flinch

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, 

Flinch

was frightened of."  

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." 

Flinch.

“Only because you are too noble to use them,” Alice said.

"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."  

Alice blushed and curled into Frank, hiding herself from the Professors.

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."  

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"  

Aurora, knowing what is coming, crawled onto Fred’s lap, tucking her head into his neck. He just wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and rubbing her back. He knows that she is going to have bad nightmares tonight.

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.  

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.  

The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead." 

“NO!” Sirius, Remus and Peter all shouted, standing up. James just nodded his head, the last puzzle piece as to why they were reading about the Dursleys in a book about his daughter finally making sense.

Severus seemed to almost curl in on himself. Even knowing he was sitting next to Lucius, he couldn’t make himself not grieve. Lucius however knew that his friend and the boy he had helped mentor while he was in school was in pain, and knew that if it was Narcissa that he wouldn’t be able to mask his feelings either, so he reached over and patted Severus on the back.

Marlene and Alice were in tears. Hugging Lily, who hadn’t let go of James, who was being hugged by the other Marauder’s. 

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.  

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

“Always knew I was one of your favorites,” James tried to joke, but fell flat when he looked over and saw his professors with tears in their eyes. For not only was he one of McGonagall’s favorites, but Lily was one of Flitwick’s favorites; and Sprout was a Hufflepuff and didn’t want to see any of her students dead. Let alone two that had such promising lives ahead of them, and a child between them as well.

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.  

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Aurora.  

“No,” Lily shouted. He can kill me. He can kill James. But that monster will not touch my baby!” James nodded in agreement with her, as well as all the mothers, and future mothers in the room. 

Narcissa looked over to her future son, she would give anything for him, she knew that already. She and Lucius had been trying so long to have a child already, that she knew that when she did finally have one, there was nothing that she wouldn’t do for him, even renounce the Dark Lord.

“Mum,” Aurora said, looking at Lily with tears in her eyes. But she didn’t know what else to say. What do you say to the woman who even at 17 was willing to sacrifice her life for her child, and in just 4 years would.

But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Aurora Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."  

Dumbledore nodded glumly.  

"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Aurora survive?"  

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."  

Everyone turned to Aurora when she snorted at that. “Ro, behave,” Draco said.

Aurora just stuck her tongue out at him and said, “Never.”

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"  

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"  

"I've come to bring Aurora to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now." 

“No they're not,” Amice said softly so only Draco could hear. "She had so much family, and only a couple of them were dark."

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Lily yelled, pulling her wand on Dumbledore, sparks flying from the end of it. “YOU ARE NOT TO LEAVE MY CHILD WITH THOSE MAGIC HATING BIGOTS!”

Aurora, while agreeing with her mother, didn’t want her to do anything she might regret, just held out her hand and summoned her mothers wand from her. The shock of that calmed her mother down but turned everyone’s attention to her.

“Wandless, silent casting,” Pandora said, sounding very similar to her daughter. “You must be very strong.”

“She is,” all the time travelers said together. 

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Aurora Potter come and live here!"  

“Listen to her,” Lily said.

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when she's older. I've written them a letter."  

“A letter!” 

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Aurora Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Aurora — every child in our world will know her name!"  

Ginny blushed.

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?" 

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Aurora underneath it.  

"Hagrid's bringing her."  

"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" 

“I would trust Hagrid with my life,” Aurora said.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.  

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"  

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.  

“James. I want one,” Sirius whimpered.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets. 

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"  

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. 

“Yes it’s mine.” Sirius stood up and did a small jig. Regulus just smiled sadly at his older brother. He hadn’t seen his brother like this since before Sirius went to Hogwarts.

I've got her, sir." 

"No problems, were there?" 

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." 

“But why did it take over 24 hours for someone to come and get you?” Andromeda asked.

Aurora just shrugged. That was something that she had never gotten answered, especially since what Hagrid just said wasn’t correct, Sirius had gotten her out of the house, and was calling the Aurors when Hagrid arrived and told him that he was to take her to Hogwarts to be checked over, and that was close to midnight, but still on the 31st. She was dropped off at the Dursleys at almost 2am on the 2nd, 31 hours later. 

Sirius had already been arrested when she was dropped off, and Frank and Alice had begun petitioning the Wizengamot for custody as her godmother right after the arrest. Then two days later they were tortured, and Augusta just let it go.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.  "Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.  

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."  

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"  

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. 

“That’s rather helpful,” Ted said, laughing.

Well — give her here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."  

Dumbledore took Aurora in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.  

"Could I — could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Aurora and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.  

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"  

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Aurora off ter live with Muggles —"  

Remus reached over to grab James’ arm at the reminder, and Sirius, who had been sitting on the floor at his feet since first hearing about his death, leaned into James even more.

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Aurora gently on the doorstep, 

“You left a baby on a doorstep!” All the females in the room yelled at him.

“I was 15 months old,” Aurora said. “Not a baby.”

“That’s even worse,” Molly replied. “You could have woken up and walked away and no one would have ever known.”

took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Aurora's blankets, and then came back to the other two. 

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.  

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."  

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."  

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and

kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.  

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply before apperating away.  

Dumbledore looked at the child one more time and sighed, “I’m sorry Aurora, but I have no other choice.” He then cast several spells on the sleeping child, a somber look upon his face.

“What did you just do to my child,” James asked quietly. Everyone sitting near him moved away subtly. James was slow to anger, but when he was a quiet angry, that's when they knew there was trouble.

“I do not know as I have not done this yet,” Dumbledore replied. Though he could guess what several of the spells were just based off of the power that he felt coming off Aurora Potter.

“Dad,” Aurora said, getting her father's attention, “Some of it wasn’t needed, and in fact made things a little more difficult for me, but several of the spells that he cast were necessary if I was to live in the muggle world and go unnoticed. He locked my metamorph abilities, which would have caused a lot of problems for me if he hadn’t. And he had to put some magic dampers on me.”

“But those are so dangerous,” Pandora exclaimed.

Aurora nodded, knowing Pandora had a point but that if Dumbledore hadn’t put blocks on her magic things would have been much worse. To make her point, she slowly released her power that she kept contained. 

Fred’s hair stood up as if he had been electrocuted, Ron and Hermione smiled at their friend, it wasn’t often that she really let go. Draco just chuckled, while Amice laughed at everyone’s reactions. Neville mumbled under his breath, “Show off.” while Luna stood and danced to a song only she could hear, yet made perfect sense with the feel of the magic coming off Aurora, while Ginny just went and sat by Aurora’s legs, basking as if she was sun tanning on a beach somewhere.

James, Lily and Sirius were looking at Aurora in awe, Remus could feel his wolf reacting to the magic coming off this young woman. Peter was cowering, he had never felt this much magic come off a person before. The rest of the room felt the oppressive press of the magic, yet at the same time, it felt warm and comfortable. 

This was a person who knew they were powerful, yet knew how to use that power not for gain but to help others.

Finally, Aurora pulled her magic back in. “That’s why I needed blocks and suppression. There were only two other people near me, powerwise, while we were in school. Both of them are in this room.” She nodded towards Neville then looked at baby Cedric in Columba’s arms. “And even then only Neville is really close.”

Everyone looked even more curious now. “A lot will be explained in the third and fourth books,” Neville said, trying to get back on track. “Let's finish this chapter though, I think we are almost done with it.”

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.  

"Good luck, Aurora," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.  

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Aurora Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley… She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Aurora Potter — the girl who lived!" 

"That's the end of the chapter," Remus said, holding the book out for the next person to take.

Pandora took the book from him. "I will go next if you don't mind."

Aurora just smiled at her, "That might be the best."