A/N: This story is AU. It starts before Harry's first year. Only, he isn't where he is supposed to be. Of course I do not own Harry Potter and co. because my name is not J.K. Rowling.

So, here is the first chapter of my story, hope you'll like it.

I fixed some errors in this story as of 1st June 2009.

2017: Story has now been adopted by PrinzessTinkerBell29. She will continue this story and has my permission to do so.

Chapter 1: Mistakes

It was a nice night. The Halloween feast was over for most people, and most of the people in Little Whinging were going to bed. At Privet Drive number 4, the perfectly normal Petunia and Vernon Dursely were putting their son Dudley in bed. He was throwing a tantrum, because his mother wouldn't read him anymore stories. She had already read three stories to him and didn't want to read any more. But after having to deal with Dudley's tantrum for nearly half an hour, she gave in and read him one more story. Vernon had gone downstairs to relax in front of the television and was therefore the only person in the house to see the news report about flying owls and falling stars. Since he had already met some strange people while going to work, he got a bit upset. He hoped it hadn't anything to do with those horrible people, the Potters. He gave a small shudder at that thought and quickly tried to think of something else, like the nice holiday Petunia and him were going to go on next weekend.

After sitting on the couch for several hours, he and his wife went to bed, with no idea that their normal life would be disturbed the next morning by the appearance of a little boy. This little boy was supposed to arrive that night. The tabby cat, which had been sitting on Privet Drive for the entire day already, was getting restless. At last she saw a strange looking man appear at the other end of the street. After he put out all the street lights he slowly walked towards Privet Drive number 4. The tabby cat then changed into a strict looking woman.

"Hello Albus, I have been waiting for you all day now. So, do tell me, are the rumours true?" she kept looking at the older man, like a cat looking at its prey. The older man waited a while before answering.

"Yes, it is true I am afraid. The Potters were killed. Only their son, Harry, has survived for some unknown reason. He only has a scar left on his forehead. Voldemort's spirit has fled for now. For a while we can be safe again."

The woman dabbed at her eyes for a moment and then asked another question: "And Harry, where will you put him then? I do hope you won't put him with these muggles. They seem horrible to me, and I've only been here for one day."

When the older man looked away for a bit, she knew the answer. "Albus, you cannot be serious. You want that sweet little child to be put with these horrible people? There won't be much good coming from it, I can tell. You don't need to be a Seer to see that."

The older man sighed. "I do not have much choice. They are the only relatives he has left, and with Sirius arrested, and Remus with his condition you know I cannot let him go somewhere else. There are still Death Eaters walking around that would love to take Harry and kill him. We cannot let them. I have cast several difficult protection spells around this house and it will be enough. In ten years he will start at Hogwarts and we can keep a close eye at him then."

The woman wanted to protest again, but was interrupted by the sound of a very large motorcycle. The motorcycle came flying down from the sky, and on it was a giant-like man with a small bundle in his arms. Carefully stepping down, he held the bundle to him.

"Ah, there you are, Hagrid. I was wondering what was going on," the old man said.

"Jus' a lot of owls to avoid. Ya know how it is," Hagrid said. (A/N: sorry, the accent is not my good point)

The woman looked at the bundle. In it was a sleeping toddler, with black hair that stuck up in all directions. He was tucked in the blanket and seemed fine. On his forehead was a lightning bolt shaped scar.

"So that is the scar he will have?" the woman asked.

"Yes, that scar will remain. I cannot do anything about it. And who knows, it might be handy later on. Like the scar on my knee, it looks just like the..." Albus trailed of at the look the woman gave him.

"Well Hagrid, would you please give him to me then. I wrote his family a letter, and it should work out alright."

The woman frowned and pursed her lips, but thought better than to argue again. It was hard to win from Albus. Hagrid gave Harry a cuddle, before handing him over to Albus.

Albus placed him on the front doorstep and placed the letter in the blankets. With one last look back, the three people left Privet Drive.

On the doorstep the little boy called Harry, from now on also known as the Boy-Who-Lived, was still sleeping peacefully, with no knowledge that his parents had died, and that he would have a very difficult time ahead of him.