The Past Can Hurt - Book 1: Philosopher's Stone

[ Book One: 

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

Chapter One: 

The Boy Who Lived ]

“Okay, the book speaks, probably the most normal thing here.”

Ron and Hermione laugh at Harry’s statement, hugging him as he is in the middle of them both.

[ Mr and Mrs Dursley lived at number four Privet Drive. They strive to be perfectly normal. In fact, they believed that they were perfectly normal, thank you. They wanted nothing to do with anything they deemed abnormal or mysterious. They didn’t like such nonsense. ]

Everyone looked towards the people they now knew to be the Dursleys, who seemed abnormally pale, even paler than their natural creamy white complexions.

Fred and George looked towards Harry, “how can they cope, Harrykins?”

All they got was emerald eyes that looked dead, “they didn’t.”

[ Mr Dursley was the director, hoping to get a promotion soon, of a firm named Grunnings, which made drills. ]

“What are drills?”

“Mr Weasley, if you just write down any questions, we can get to them at any breaks, if that’s alright?”

“Sure, Harry! Thank you!”

[ He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have an enormous moustache. Mrs Dursley was much too thin and blonde. She had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which was helpful as she spent so much time craning over garden fences and looking through her windows, spying on neighbours. The latest neighbour had just moved in, and Mrs Dursley thought them abnormal due to their skin. ] 

Silence reined through the hall as they realised that if this was Mrs Dursley’s opinion of her neighbours, then what did she think of Harry? He had light brown skin.

[ The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley; in their opinion, there was no finer boy. Their next-door neighbours, however, had other views on the wailing boy who wouldn’t shut up. 

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 learned about the Potters. ]

“But why?”

There was no answer. Everyone would find out anyways.

[ Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years, not for Mrs Potter's lack of trying, but Mrs Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister. ]

“What? Why? Harry, do you know?”

“No, Ginny, of course not.”

“Oh. Wait, stop being sarcastic.”

“...No.”

[ Because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as possible. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. They knew the Potters had a small son, too, their nephew, but they had never seen him. Why would they? He looked like the father. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away. They didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. ]

Hermione looked at Harry with tears in her eyes, she and Ron already knew a fair amount about what the Dursleys had done to Harry, but she definitely had experience with this racism. She hugged him tightly, now understanding why when they went muggle shopping, none of the racist comments people were spouting was affecting him, and he was used to it by people who were supposed to care for him!

“What do they mean by a child like that, Harry?” 

Mrs Weasley, are you that stupid.

“Well, let's count the reasons, shall we, Mrs Weasley. One, I have Magik. Two, I’m Indian. Three, I have eyes like my mother, and Petunia hates to be reminded of her. Those are just the top three. There are so many more that we might be here all day. Do you want me to continue?”

“No deary.”

[ When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday. This is when our story starts. Mr Dursley picks out his most boring tie] 

“But Harrykins! Why would one pick out a boring tie.”

“Have you seen my Uncle?”

Fred and George’s heads snap towards Vernon, “true Harrykins, true.”

[ For work, as if all was right with the world, according to him, there was nothing that the cloudy sky outside could suggest that strange and mysterious things would be happening all over the country. 

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. ]

Quite a few muggle-borns wondered why an owl was out during the day, which got the purebloods questioning why wouldn’t there be owls out during the day.

“Owls aren’t used for sending letters in the muggle world. They’re nocturnal, so they’re not seen. Otherwise, you’d only seen them in zoos.”

[ It was now half past eight.

Mr Dursley grabbed his briefcase that he’d left by the door the night before, gave Mrs Dursley a peck on the cheek, and tried to give Dudley a goodbye kiss but couldn’t due to the tantrum he was having and throwing his cereal at the walls. “Little tyke,” chortled Mr Dursley as he got into his car and backed out of their drive of number four. ]

Mrs Weasley breathed in a huge breath, “LITTLE TYKE!? LITTLE TYKE!? THAT’S NO WAY TO RAISE A CHILD. I SHOULD–”

Ron discreetly cast a silencing charm around his mother after he had felt Harry flinch. He ran his hand down Harry’s back, soothing his distress.

Hermione looked at him proudly, looking around then back to him, mouthing ‘well done’. Only Fred and George saw it, but they weren’t going to say anything, not with how their mother treated them all.

[ Mr Dursley saw something peculiar on his way to work. On the corner of Privet Drive was a cat reading a map. For a second, he hadn’t realised what he had seen. Jerking his head around, he just caught a tabby cat, no map in sight. ]

“Minnie!”

“Mr Lupin, just because you are no longer school-age does not mean I can’t put you in detention.”

Remus just smirks, “sure, Minnie.”

[ What was he thinking? A cat reading a map?! No, it must have been a trick of the light, just to make sure Mr Dursley looked to where the cat was in his mirror as he drove. The cat was looking at the sign reading Privet Drive. He gave a little shake. Cats don’t read, so he put it out of his mind, thinking about the large drill order he should get that day.]

“Minnie does.”

“Mr Lupin!”

[ But on the edge of town, something else drove drills out of his mind. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be many strangely dressed people. People in cloaks. ]

“What’s wrong with cloaks?”

This came from someone in a Ravenclaw uniform.

“Well, muggles don’t wear cloaks, depending on their culture, but in general, cloaks went out of fashion in the 1930s.”

“Mr Potter, how do you know this?”

“I went to a library.”

Hermione looked at Harry with a head tilt. Harry nods back, and she smiles in response to knowing that Harry had his research mode before Hogwarts.

[ Mr Dursley couldn’t bear the thought of people wearing non-normal clothing. The clothing you see on young people nowadays! This was probably the latest fashion. Why hadn’t Petunia gossiped about it this morning? ]

“What does he mean by ‘non-normal’ clothing?”

Harry looked at the second-year Hufflepuff. He pointed towards Vernon and Petunia Dursley, “whatever they’re not wearing would be non-normal.”

The Hufflepuff looked at them and looked back at Harry in fear. He looks towards his aunt and uncle only to see his uncle’s face in a purple rage he had seen before. He was seven and had just gotten his report card for the term. You could see he was in the top three of his class and top ten in his year. However, Dudley’s wasn’t as good. Ranking twenty out of twenty-eight wasn’t as bad as uncle Vernon was making it seem.

Harry got several lashes to his back and several burns to his hands, and it was the last day of term, so nobody would even notice.

Harry’s hands start to shake at the purple rage. Looking at the Hufflepuff, who is now a pasty white from their regular tanned white, he motions for them to join the trio’s beanbag.

They come over and sit between Harry and Hermione, “what’s your name?”

“Aurelia Gidding,” she twists her fingers around. Hermione takes one look at them and places her hands on Aurelia’s to steady them.

She smiles.

Nobody takes notice of Vernon and Petunia, apart from Dudley, who is across the hall from them, not wanting to be near them.

 [ Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Mr Dursleys eyes fell on a huddle of people. They were whispering and gesturing excitedly. Mr Dursley saw that some weren’t young at all! He was enraged! That man had to be older than him, the white in his hair, the wrinkles on his skin, wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! It stuck with Mr Dursley that this was probably a silly stunt, something for a charity or some such… That was it. The traffic moved on, and soon he arrived at Grunnings car park, mind back on drills. 

Mr Dursley’s desk sat in front of a window on the ninth floor. Having his back to the window was a good thing, considering the owls swooping past in the daylight. People on the street stood pointing, open-mouthed at them, as most of them had never seen an owl, even at night.]

“Why would they have never seen an owl?” questioned a Ravenclaw, their friend next to them nodding at the question.

“Well, that’s because owls are nocturnal, the only place to really see an owl, other than camping, is going to a zoo. They keep and look after loads of different animals, some of them are endangered, so they have them there so nobody tries to kill them.” Everyone other than Ron, Hermione, the Twins and Remus looked at Harry in shock. They’d never heard him be knowledgeable on anything other than in Defence.

Charlie, however, looked outraged at locked-up animals, “they just have animals in cages?! How dar–”

Hermione held up her hand to stop him from ranting, “Charlie, they have these animals there for a reason. People go to where these animals live and kill them for fun. If they’re in a zoo, they’re somewhat safe. They might have been born into captivity. That animal isn’t going to survive in the wild. They might have been injured. Who knows why they’re in the zoo, they’re safe, and that’s what matters.”

Charlie nodded, thinking about his Dragons.

[ Mr Dursley’s morning hadn’t changed from the usual. He’d yelled at ten different people. Had his secretary bring him coffee and yelled at her too. And made several telephone calls, some more important than others, some for personal reasons and some to do with work. He was in a good mood until lunchtime. His secretary decided to quit after he kept making advances on her.

She was uncomfortable, she had said.

So he thought he’d stretch his legs, ]

Harry sat up abruptly. That was weird. Vernon never stretched his legs other than to get– no, Harry, don’t think of it. He realised people were staring at him, and he laid back down instead of offering them an explanation.

[ and go to the bakery across the street to buy himself a bun. ]

Harry sighed silently. That's why he stretched his legs.

[ With the tiny brain he has, he’d forgotten about the people in cloaks. Until he passed a group of them. Eyeing them up and down with disgust and rage. He didn’t understand why they made him feel so uneasy.

They were whispering. About what? Mrs Dursley had made him nosey after all the gossip she spouted to him. They whispered excitedly, and he couldn’t see a single collecting tin. He shook off the unease and headed into the bakery.

On his way back, clutching his extra large doughnut in the bag, he caught a few words they were saying.

“The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard –”

“– yes, their son, Harry –” 

Mr Dursley stopped dead.]

Applause was heard from the twins. Fred and George celebrated at the sentence even though they could see Mr Dursley. Harry laughed at them.

“FRED! GEORGE!”

The applause died down at their mother.

“HOW DARE YOU APPLAUSE TO A MAN'S DEATH. HE’S HARRY’S UNCLE! HAVE SOME MORE RESPECT! WHY I OUGHT TO COME OVER TH–”

Arthur Weasley had silenced his wife, nodding to Fred and George with approval in his kind eyes.

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

Mr Dursley dashed back across the road, hurrying up to his office and went to snap at the secretary, only to remember she wasn’t there anymore. Seizing the telephone to ring Mrs Dursley when he changed his mind. Mrs Dursley wouldn’t want to be disturbed. He stroked his moustache, thinking… Potter wasn’t that unusual of a name.

In fact, he was sure that there were loads of Potters with a son named Harry, and honestly, he couldn’t even remember what his nephew was called. Never seen him, could have been called Harvey or Harold.

There was no point worrying Mrs Dursley about such freakish things. She’d only get upset, especially after those new neighbours. But he didn’t blame her if he’d had a sister like that, marrying a man like that.

But all the same, those people in cloaks… ]

Everyone stared at Vernon and Petunia.

“You didn’t even know his name!?”

“WHY SHOULD WE! WE NEVER WANTED THE FREAK. I NEVER WANTED A FREAK FOR A SISTER!”

Petunia’s mouth was still moving, but nobody could hear her.

She had been silenced by Remus after he saw Harry flinch at the word Freak.

[ He found it hard to concentrate at all that afternoon, he had to make sure his meetings were all at the right time due to his secretary quitting, and when he finally left work at precisely five o’clock, he walked straight into someone outside the door.

“Sorry,” he grunted unapologetically as the tiny man stumbled over, nearly falling over. The man was wearing a violet cloak Mr Dursley soon realised. The man didn’t look all that upset. In fact, his mouth was in a wide grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat. His voice was squeaky, causing passers-by to stare, “don’t be sorry, my dear sir, nothing could upset me today! As You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like you should be celebrating! It's a happy, happy day!”

And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off. ]

Suddenly, laughter emerged from Harry. 

Mrs Weasley was not happy about that, “Harry! Don’t make fun of other people's weight. Just because you’re so skinny does not give you the right!”

That stopped Harry’s laughter. “Excuse me? You don’t get to shame my body size either.”

[Rooted to the spot, a stranger had just hugged him. A stranger who was abnormal, he’d also been called a Muggle, whatever that was.

He was rattled.

Hurrying to his car to escape all the freakishness, he set off home, hoping the freakishness didn’t follow him home.

He also hoped he imagined things, which he would never want, as he disapproved of imagination. ]

The twins ‘faint’ in shock at somebody not wanting imagination or originality. It was appalling.

[ Pulling into his driveway, he saw the tabby cat sitting on his garden wall from that morning.

He was sure it was the same one, looking just as stiff, with the same markings around its eyes. 

“Shoo!” said Mr Dursley loudly.

Giving him a stern look, the cat didn’t move from its stiff position. Was this normal cat behaviour?

Letting himself into the house, Mr Dursley was determined not to mention anything to his wife. 

Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner about Mrs Next Door’s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word (“Shan’t!”). 

Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. No owls, no people with cloaks. She told him about Mrs Number Sixes' problems with her daughter and Mrs Number Three’s complaints about the new neighbours who moved into Number One. And how Dudley had learnt a new word: “Shan’t!” ] 

Narcissa sat up straighter, looking at Petunia, “I’m not surprised that a Muggle like you couldn’t teach a boy some manners.”

Harry didn’t even think about defending his aunt, not after his childhood.

[ All evening, Mr Dursley tried to act normally, but it didn’t work because Petunia kept glancing at him with a confused look.

After Dudley was put to bed, he went to the living room to catch the last news report. It ruined his mood.

“And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in the daylight, hundreds of sightings of these birds have flown in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.”

The newsreader allowed himself to 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 MY DAD!!”

A pink-haired lady next to Mad-Eye screamed out. It was Nymphadora Tonks. 

“I wish they were here. Wouldn’t that be funny, though, me wishing that my parents were here? It would be even better if everybody involved in the books would turn up.”

 [ “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 they’ve had a downpour of shooting stars instead of the rain I promised yesterday! 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 couldn’t believe it, sitting in his armchair shocked, shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying in daylight? Freaks in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters and their son.

It was no good. He would have to say something. Mrs Dursley came in with a tray with two cups of tea and a slice of chocolate cake.

Clearing his throat nervously. “Er, Petunia, dear, you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?”

As he expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they usually pretended she didn’t have a sister. ]

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, “I knew it. I told you!”

[ “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 thought…Maybe…It was something to do with…You know…Her lot.”

As Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips, Mr Dursley wondered if he should tell her about hearing the name ‘Potter’ and ‘Harry’. Thinking about it, Mr Dursley casually said, “Their son – he’d be about Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?”

“I suppose so,” said Mrs Dursley swiftly.

“What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?”

“Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.”

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

He didn’t say another word on the subject and instead told her about the secretary leaving, not the reason why, which would upset Mrs Dursley greatly. They soon headed up to bed.

While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept to the bedroom window to check if the cat was still there. It was. It was also staring down Privet Drive. ]

Everyone who had figured out it was McGonagall stared at her. Why was she staring down the street?

[ Was he imagining things? Could all this have been 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. ]

“And we don’t know how Harry can bear living with you!”

[ Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly, but her husband lay awake, thinking. His last comforting thought before falling asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, they didn’t have a reason to come see them. They knew what he and Petunia thought about them. They had made that clear. Yawning, Mr Dursley turned over. It couldn’t affect them…

How very wrong he was. ]

Harry sighed. Vernon had jinxed it!

[ As Mr Dursley drifted into an uneasy sleep, the cat was as stiff as ever, with no sleepiness in sight. Its eyes fixed on the far corner of Privet Drive. It was nearly midnight when it finally moved at all, as a man had appeared on the corner where the cat had been watching.

Appearing so suddenly and silently. It looked like he had just come up from the ground. The cat’s tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed. ]

“Albus, how exactly did you get there?”

“Portkey, my dear.”

[ A man looking like he did? They would have never stepped foot in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard. Both were also long enough to tuck into his belt.

He wore 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. ]

“Who broke your nose, Headmaster?” A couple of students asked.

“Well,” he chuckles, “my brother, Aberforth, was the first. Then a dear friend called Horace Slughorn was the second.”

“Why’d they punch you in the nose?”

“That you don’t need to know, dear child."

[ Albus Dumbledore didn’t realise that if anyone saw him, they’d run and ring the police. He was busy rummaging in his cloak pockets, looking for something.

He did, however, seem to know he was being watched. He looked up at the tabby cat and smiled at the stare it was giving him. It amused him greatly, but there was also a flicker of anger. He chuckled and muttered, “I should have known.” 

He soon found what he was looking for. It was a silver cigarette lighter. Flicking it open, he held it in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out, a ball of light heading to the lighter in his hand. He repeated this twelve more times. Privet Drive was now in total darkness. He put the Put-Outer away.

In the distance, he could see two tiny pinpricks from the cat's eyes. If anyone were awake and looked out their window, they’d see nothing. Dumbledore set off towards number four, where he then sat down on the wall next to the cat. Not looking at the cat, he spoke to it.

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.” ]

“I knew it was you, Minnie!”

“Mr Lupin!”

[ Turning to smile at the tabby, only for a severe-looking woman to be there instead. She was wearing square glasses that looked exactly like the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak. It was emerald, and her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, looking 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.  ]

The trio looked at each other in confusion. How did McGonagall know where Dumbledore would be, and why was she there all day?

They decided to wait for a couple more paragraphs before asking, just in case she mentioned it in the books.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, both with distress on their faces. Was Dumbledore always planning on giving Harry to the Dursleys?

[ “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 to the Dursley’s 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.”

“You can’t blame them,” said Dumbledore gently. “We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.” ]

“Eleven years? It went on for eleven years?” A random Gryffindor asked.

The adults looked grim, apart from Umbridge and Dumbledore. Even Snape looked grim as he answered, “yes, Mr Delago, it indeed went on for eleven years.”

[ “I know that,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “But that’s no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the street in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.”

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, hoping he would tell her something, but he didn’t. ] 

“He never does.” Harry, Ron and Hermione whispered.

Noone except Aureila, Remus and Sirius heard.

[ 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 sherbet lemon?”

“A what?”

“A sherbet lemon. They’re a kind of Muggle sweet I’m rather fond of.”

“No, thank you,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn’t think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. “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.” Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, 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.” ] 

“That’s because you’re powerful, Albus,” Minerva looked at Dumbledore as she said this.

[ “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 – od all right, Voldemort – was frightened of.”

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

“Only because you’re too noble to use them.”

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

Professor McGonagall sharply looked at Dumbledore and said, “The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone’s saying? About why he’s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?” ]

Harry leaned over to Hermione, whispering in her ear, “how did everyone know? Nobody there that knew came out alive, other than Old Voldie and me. So how did the entire Wiccan population of Britain know ?”

Hermione looked at Harry with a shocked look, quickly glancing at Dumbledore. Harry nodded grimly in agreement, jerking his head to Ron, then whispering the same thing in his ear.

Looking at each other and nodding, they’d decided they would find out exactly how everybody knew that Harry had ‘defeated’ Voldemort within what seemed to be a few hours.

[ 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 or a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. ]

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Mr Potter?”

“How did you know Dumbledore was going to the Dursleys? And why did you have to wait the whole day? If he attacked on the thirty-first, then you were waiting the entire November first. What time did Dumbledore even arrive?”

“Well, Hagrid had told me Albus was taking you to that house, so I decided to wait for him there. I didn’t know when he would be there, Mr Potter, but I believe he arrived after midnight.”

“And how did Dumbledore take me from the house? I thought it was under the Fidelius?”

“Oh, well, that’s because Albus was the one to cast the Fidelius.”

A slight smirk appeared on Harry’s face, but it was gone before anyone saw it. Got ya.

“Thanks, Professor.”

McGonagall nodded slightly before turning back to the book.

Nobody except the trio, the twins, Remus and Sirius, saw that Dumbledore had gone pale, his blue eyes slightly wide at the information just given out.

[ It was plain that whatever ‘everyone’ was saying, she would not believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.

“What they’re saying,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort turned up at Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they’re – dead.” ]

Everyone was going to have a minute of silence for the Potters, but the book continued, only understanding that quietness means reading.

[ Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

“Lily and James… I can’t believe it… I didn’t want to believe it… Oh, Albus…”

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 son, Harry. But – he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they’re saying that when he couldn’t kill Harry 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 boy? It’s just astounding… Of all the things to stop him… But how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?”

“We can only guess,” said Dumbledore. “We may never know.” ]

The trio looked at one another. They knew Dumbledore knew how; he just never told anyone.

[ 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 Harry to his aunt and uncle. They’re the only family he has left now.” ]

Amelia Bones got out a sheet of parchment and started to write down questions she had. Mad-Eye looked over at it, nodding approvingly at what she was writing. While he wished he didn’t think bad of Albus, his old friend, he couldn’t help but be paranoid. After all, Albus hadn’t realised that there was an imposter using his body for a whole year.

[ “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. Harry Potter, come and live here!”

“It’s the best place for him,” said Dumbledore firmly. “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written them a letter.” ]

Everyone stared at Dumbledore dumbfounded. A letter. He wasn’t going to come and tell Harry himself?

[ “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 him! He’ll be famous – a legend – I wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future – there will be books written about Harry – every child in our world will know his name!” ]

“I’m so glad that they never made that Harry Potter Day a thing.”

“Really, Potter? I would have thought you’d have loved that.”

Harry turned his head over to where Draco Malfoy was sitting with his parents.

“Right, Malfoy. Let me simplify it for your simple brain, shall I? Imagine you were me. That’s it, now tell me what have you got left in your life.”

“I’d be famous.” Draco stuck his head into the air with a smirk on his face. His parents, though, went a ghastly pale white, and Narcissa covered her mouth with her hand.

“Is that it? Is that really what you took from that?” Harry shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “Your parents would be dead. Everyone would look at you thinking they know exactly who you are and how you act. You never get time alone when someone doesn’t want to look at you. They want to look at you because you, what, ‘defeated’ Old Snake Face when in reality, it was when you lost your parents so young that you don’t even know what they looked like, how they acted, if they would love who you are now. 

And all you know about them is that you look like your dad with your mum’s eyes. That he was a prankster, that he got into trouble a lot, he was Head Boy, although I didn’t find that out from the people who knew them. No, I found that in thE FUCKING LIBRARY!” Harry’s now stood up, breathing heavily.

“I know fuck all about my mum Malfoy! In fact, I think I know more about you than I do, my mum!”

Harry sits down heavily, Aurelia stands and sits on his lap, cuddling him, and all he can think is, I wish I had a little sister like Aurelia.

Hermione and Ron look at one another, “I think he’s adopting her as his sister.” They say at the same time.

“Who says she isn’t?” Harry grumbled from above Aurelia’s head.

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

“That’s not for you to decide, Headmaster. Unless you went through the agency at the Ministry stating you were Mr Potter’s Magikal Guardian, then you can not place him anywhere other than where his parents said in their Will.” 

Amelia Bones looked towards Harry after telling Dumbledore off.

“Mr Potter, do you know who you’re Magikal Guardian is?”

“No, Madam Bones. What even is a Magikal Guardian? And my parents had a Will?”

Harry knew the answers to this, as he, Hermione and Ron had gone to Gringotts at one point over the summer. But he wasn’t going to let Dumbledore know that he knew everything just yet. Where would the fun in that be?

Amelia wrote on her piece of parchment again. But then a notebook and fountain pen appeared next to it, almost saying that she’ll need more than a small roll of parchment.

[ Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, “Yes – yes, you’re right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?” She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. ]

“Did you really think I had Mr Potter in my robes, Minerva?”

McGonagall’s cheeks went a faint red, “of course not, Albus. Don’t be silly.”

[ “Hagrid’s bringing him.” 

“You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?”

“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?” ]

“Where is Hagrid anyway?”

“He’s out on official business, my dear boy.”

[ 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 motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorbike 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 dustbin lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. He was holding a bundle of blankets in his vast, muscular arms. ]

“HAGRID!” More than one person yelled.

Umbridge was not pleased with how this reading was going so far, but she kept her mouth shut until she could get something on Potter and his group.

[ “Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. “At last. And where did you get that motorbike?”

“Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. “Young Sirius Black lent it me. I’ve got him, sir.” ]

Amelia spoke up, “what does he mean Sirius Black lent him the motorbike? Does that mean he was with Mr Potter after the attack? And just let him go?!”

No one could answer that. Snuffles barked. Amelia looked straight at him. Her eyes widened slightly but didn’t say anything.

[ “No problems, were there?”

“No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.” ]

“So Hagrid got him out of the house? Did the secret keeper tell him where it was?”

Again, no answer.

[ Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under his raven-black hair was a scar, although it didn’t just stop on his forehead. No, this scar, which looked like a bolt of lightning, went from his forehead to his cheek, scaring through his eyebrows and over his nose, just missing his eye. The scar was slightly red but would eventually be a thin white scar on his light brown skin.

“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 useful. I have one myself above my left knee, which is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give him here, Hagrid – we’d best get this over with.” ]

“Quick question.”

“Yes, Mr Potter?”

“Just out of curiosity, did I go see a Healer after I was taken from the house, or did I just go straight to the Dursleys?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure, Mr Potter. I assumed you had. That’s why the scar had to stay.”

[ Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house.

“Could I – could I say goodbye to him, sir?” Asked Hagrid.

He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

“Shhh!” Hissed Professor McGonagall, not unlike her animagus form. “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 and James dead – an’ poor little Harry ter live with Muggles –”

“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. ]

“You’re going to wake them at whatever time in the evening?!”

Dumbledore shakes his head with a smile. While inside, he was panicking.

[ He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry’s blankets, and then returned to the other two. ]

Silence covered the hall in disbelief and horror when Harry’s voice was heard, “so that’s why I got sick easily the first couple of years. Huh.”

Everyone looked at Harry. Seeing everyone look at him, he shrugged, “what? I got pneumonia at some point and almost died. Luckily, the neighbour saw I was incredibly sick and took me to the hospital. I was there for at least a month or 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 twinkly 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’d 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 motorbike and kicked to 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. ]

“So that’s it? No warming charms at all? You just left him on the doorstep !” Madam Pomfrey was not happy. Now she knew why Harry hadn’t been taken out of that house after she went to Dumbledore about him being unhealthy every year he returned to Hogwarts.

She couldn’t believe Minerva would do this too.

[ Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner, he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. Going to click it, he saw Professor McGonagall’s tabby form leaving Privet Drive. Putting his arm down, he heads back to number four. ]

Dumbledore pales.

[ Looking around in the dark, Dumbledore makes his way to Harry.

Getting out his wand, he starts to cast spells. Binding spells. Blocks on his Magik. About to put a glamour on Harry, Dumbledore hears a door open, “was there a powercut?”

“I don’t believe so. Why?”

“None of the street lamps are on.”

Dumbledore quickly spells himself invisible. Getting out the Put-Outer, he clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to the street lamps, lighting up Privet Drive once again.

“Nevermind, Honey. They’ve come back on.”

The door closes again.

Dumbledore heads back to the corner of Privet Drive, so he can just see the bundle of blankets on the doorstep of number four.

“Good luck, Harry,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and was gone with a swish of his cloak. ] 

Harry, Ron and Hermione weren’t surprised. They’d found this out over the summer. But everybody else? They were pissed.

People started to stand up and yell at Dumbledore.

“QUIET! Let the book carry on.”

Hermione sat back, satisfied that they all listened to her.

[ 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 and unspeakable things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. 

One small hand closed on the letter beside him, deactivating the Magik upon it. He slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs Dursley’s scream as she opened the door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…

He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting secretly all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!” 

Chapter Two: The Vanishing Glass ]

The book closed.

Professor Flitwick spoke up in his squeaky voice, “it must need permission to read to the next chapter when we’re ready.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“Mr Potter!”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall.”

“Let’s stretch our legs a bit. Snuffles needs to go outside for a second.” 

“Quite right, Mr Lupin, we’ll all meet here in ten minutes.”