Two young sisters with black and brown hair walk in the room. "Hi I am BBFan7410," said the black hair girl with brown/hazel eyes.

"My name is TheAwsomeArtist101." Said the brown hair girl with light sea green/hazel eyes.

Together in unison we said, "We do not own any Harry potter characters or places. We only own the Ocs. Enjoy" With that the two girls disappeared into thin air like Nightcrawler and Nico.

Mictel and Oliver- don't forget about us!

"Shut up" Shout BBFan7410. Taylor- hey that my Boyfriend your talking to. Nat- He roman and lets get on with the story. Taylor and Issy- So what! Nat- BBFan7410 and TheAwsomeArtist101 wants you to enjoy this story and forgive us crazy Ocs. Well bye. Chapter Two

The boy who lived, ReadTeddy.

'Crap were going to see how spoil Potter is at home.' Thought an angry Snape while Umbridge thought 'Now we finally get good dirt on the brat, and see if he really is a attention seeking brat.' 'Crap there going to read about my home life' thought a scared Harry.

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

"Your welcome" yelled all the guests from the future, the Weasley twins, Harry,Ginny and Ron.

They were the last you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, all though he did had a very large mustache.

"He sounds very lovely and I am so glad I am his great niece/nephews." Said the future Potters very sarcastically. Everyone from the past was looking at them like they had two heads.

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.

"I feel so bad for the neighbors." Taylor said in very Sirius way. The others nodded in agreement, and mainly the ones who recognized the joke silently laugh.

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

"Hey little Fred do you agree with that" ask George with a failing straight face. "Nope. I think the finest boy is in this room." little Fredreplied. "Who?" ask Taylor. "UNCLE HARRY!" little Fred shouted while jumping up and down. Everyone sans Umbridge, Snape, and Fudge, laughed at the little boy antics. Teddy kept reading once everyone calm down.

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

While they were reading Taylor was doing her nails and said in a bored voice "Yeah right."

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley sister but they haven't met for several years, in fact Mrs. Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good for nothing husband were undursleyish as it was possible to be.

"What that not even a word!" yelled a very angry Hermione and Percy. "Yeah." mumble Taylor without looking up. "Yes it is. Didn't you hear some random scientists just discover the word." Said Natallie with a very straight face and in a Sirius voice too. This causes every one to laugh san the obvious.

The Dursleys shudder to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the streets.

"What wrong with the Potters because I know something wrong with James and that's because he is a seeking attention brat." Taylor said as she put away the fingernails polish. "NO I'M NOT!" yelled an angry James. The hall erupted into laughter at the little banter. "What its true!" Yelled Albus, Taylor and Lily. "Traitors!" James pouted.

The Dursleys knew the Potters had a small son too, but they never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away. They didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

"What does the Dursley mean about a child like that mixing with Dudley?" ask Professor McGonagall. " Meaning they don't want Dudley mixing with me at that age." Harry said truthfully. This causes the past people to mutter very angrily. Teddy read on.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke upon 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,

"Why a boring tie?" ask the confuse Weasley twins. "Cause he like to be boring." Said Harry.

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.

"How thick are these people?" ask one very confuse Hufflepuff first year. "They try not to see anything strange." Answer Harry.

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.

"He encourages this kind of behavior?" ask a stunned McGonagall. "Yeah and he is proud of anything Uncle Dudley does." Said little Lily.

This causes all the teachers to frown, and the others to worry.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map.

"Cats are very smart animals cause they all have Bast soul in them" Lysander said dreamily. The people from the future shakes theirs heads san one as the people from the past look confuse. "That's was you right professor McGonagall?" ask Fred. McGonagall said nothing.

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.

"Cats can too read." Said Luna and Taylor.

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing excpet 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.

"People in cloaks are not that strange." Ron told the book. "They are to muggles and you are talking to a book." Said Taylor calmly. This causes everyone to laugh san the obvious.

Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.

Nearly everyone that was a half blood or pureblood took offense to that comment.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes 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 that man!" James, little Fred, Fred, George, Lee, and Roxanne fake yelled in fake anger.

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 over-head. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.

"What Never seen an owl at daylight?" Lavender cried out in shock.

Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people, he made important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.

"Ahhh what a very productive muggle." Said a very impress Fudge. "THAT NOT RIGHT TO YELL AT SOMEONE AT WORK!" yelled a very pissed off Taylor. Everyone from the future wince slightly.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought that he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

"He walk across the street?" ask Harry who never known his uncle to walk that long.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyes 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 son, Harry—" "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard—"

"—yes, their son, Harry—"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead.

"I wish." Said Harry out loud. Everyone thought Taylor going to snap but it was Natallie who snap. "DON'T EVER SAY THAT ABOUT YOU FAMILY! YOU MIGHT REGRET SAYING SOMETHING LIKE THAT LATER!" she yelled.

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,, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name.

"There is only one wizarding family called Potters but there are many muggles families called Potters." Said Scorpious much to surprise to the past. "Scorpious are you friends with the Potters?" ask Percy. "Yeah the only Malfoy to be friends with the Potters." Said Scorpious. The past was down right shock.

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

"He didn't know your name!" Hermione and all the female teachers shouted in anger. Harry and the future kids just shrug their shoulders.

He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. 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...

"Yeah you do, AUNT MARGE!" Shouted James, but no one from the past heard him for they were shock that Mr. Dursley didn't try hard to learn his nephew name.

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, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.

"Sorry he actually said sorry!" shouted Harry and the future Potters in shock. The rest of the future kids minus one nodded in shock agreement. "I did not know he knew the word." Harry added in shock.

It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a Violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset as 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.

"Wait how did he fit his arms around Mr. Dursley?" ask Ron, who had seen how huge Mr. Dursley was. "I do not know Ron." Was Harry reply.

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.

"Don't make a comment Draco, not a single word." Said Natallie as soon as she saw him move his mouth. "Dude listen to her, you going to get hexed if you make a stupid comment," added Scorpious

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.

"How can he not approve of imagination?" ask Madam Pomfrey. "He manages it quite well." Said Harry.

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.

"Wow! How dense can he get? No one shoos our Minnie!" said James, and Fred. "DON'T EVER CALL ME THAT!" shouted McGonagall.

Was this normal cat behavior? 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, "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."

"I wonder if Grandpa was the other man on the news?" Teddy wonders out loud. "Maybe." Said little Fred. The past was confused on whom they were talking about, but some were working on finding out about their parents.

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… 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. 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."

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 son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?" "I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. "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 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. 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… How very wrong he was.

"We all wish he was wrong, we all really do." James and Harry said in unison.

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.

"Wow! You must have been stiff when you finally move." Said little Fred for he can't stay that still for so long thanks to his dad nature. The others kids from the future and past nodded in agreement.

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.

This cause the hall erupts into loud cheer for the old headmaster.

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

"COOL!" shouted all the kids from the past. "My dad has it now," said Little Rose. Everyone from the past was shock.

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 I wish we were not reading about this dreadful day." Said Professor Sprout sadly.

"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."

"He still doesn't have much sense." Said a smiling Teddy.

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

"He is gone and never going to come back." Said Umbridge firmly. The future kids suddenly look down right murderous. "YOU LYING PIECE OF FILTH! HE DOES COME BACK AND SLOWY TOOK OVER! OVER FIFTY PEOPLE DIED IN THE 1998 BATTLE AT HOGWARTS! THAT'S RIGHT THEY DIED HERE AT HOGWARTS!" Shouted the future kids in anger some kids like the future Weasleys, and Teddy had tears in their eyes. Fudge and Umbridge were taken back. 'How dare they side with Potter!' thought Umbridge.

"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." "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." 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." "I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different.

"Fear of a name increases the fear of it itself." Said Natallie.

Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of." "You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." "Only because you're too — well —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 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?

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

Everyone san the obvious had tears in their eyes.

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. "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."

"Sadly yes. Harry I am sorry you have to live here." Said Teddy.

"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."


"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!" "Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"Is there any Harry potter day in the future?" ask Harry in fear. "Nope!" said James popping the P.

"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 you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he'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 boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. "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?"

"We all trust Hagrid with our life." Said James pointing to his friend and family.

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. 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. I've got him, sir." "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." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his 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. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. "Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid.

"Sadly that bike did not last long, or I would love to have it." Said Teddy in a sad tone.

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, "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 Harry off 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.

He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry'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.

"You just left him there? How could you?" ask a very angry Hermione. Hermione turn her head towards Harry. "Did you know about this?" She asks. "Yeah my Aunt Marge kept telling me every time she visited." Said Harry. Teddy read on before Hermione started to shouts about 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, Harry," 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. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and 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 front 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 in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"

"That's it. Who wants to read?" ask Teddy. "I will" said Little Fred as he grabbed the book and change it to the right page.