Chapter 1- The Letter

The night grew silent as the man walked down the street. There was no living soul in
sight, save for the cat standing under a street light, as if waiting patiently for something to
happen. If someone were to look at the cat, they would be unnerved by its posture, as no one
could say the last time an ordinary cat stood so stiffly. The man continued his walk calmly, as he
reached in to one of the pockets of his strange clothing and pulled something like a silver lighter.
When he turned it on, with a single, sharp click, the two lampposts on either side of him
suddenly shut off. The same happened to every lamppost in his vicinity, as he walked down the
street, to where the cat was. As he reached the small animal, the last of the lights on the street
went out, burying it in darkness. Even the most sharp eyed individual could not see what was
about to happen.
The man put the device back in his pocket and smiled.
Good evening, professor McGonagall. he said, almost as if he was talking to the cat.
The animal in question simply stared at the man, regarding him with a strange look for a
feline face. Then, the strangest thing occurred. The shape of the animal started to change. In a
short span of a second, the cat was standing on its hind legs, its fore limbs now had fingers, and
its height was now to the mans shoulder. But now the cat was no longer a cat, she was a woman
in her forties with a stern look and even sterner posture.
Albus. she greeted the man in front of her, who didnt seem slighted in the least about
what he saw, as if he had witnessed it countless time before.
I trust all is well? asked the man, as he started to backtrack his steps in a slower
manner, with McGonagall beside him.
Yes. I have watched them all day and while theyre not great, theyre not as horrible as I
would have thought them to be. The child threw a tantrum this morning when he didnt get his
dessert before his meal, but Petunia calmed him down by putting him in a time out. Vernon was
out most of the day at work, but he helped with dinner and played with his son for a while.
recited the professor.
That seems to me like a great set of parents thus far. stated Albus. Is there more?
There was... started McGonagall after a moment of thought A discussion I happened
to overhear between the Dursleys. They were talking about the wizarding world, and it was a
tense and short conversation.
And? inquired Albus further.
They held little regard for the celebrations our kind kept putting on today. While most
muggles are unaware, even in the face of the preposterous displays of magic that could breach
the Statute of Secrecy, she bristled a bit at that, they know something is the matter and they
were unimpressed by the state of things, she finished, reclaiming her cool.

I get the impression that you would feel the boy would be treated less, because of his
parentage. said Albus undeterred.
I remember what Lily told me about her sister on occasion. While there was no outright
hatred, there was some animosity between them. By placing a magical child in Petunia Dursleys
care, we could do more harm than good. she concluded.
He is still her nephew, Minerva, Albus said, she may be able to put aside her feelings
on the matter to take care of the boy. If not for him, at least for her sister. As I understand, there
is a certain debt Petunia owes Lily and James, one that, given the current circumstances, can only
be repaid by taking the boy in her home. he concluded in a knowing tone.
Very well, conceded Minerva, as they arrived in front of the house the Dursleys were
living in, I will trust your judgment in this matter. But if it comes to light that they are
mistreating him... she warned.
Then I will relocate him somewhere else, personally. promised Albus, with a
determined air about him. I will not have an innocent child put under the care of unloving
caretakers, of that you have my word. Someone will be watching him at all times, to make sure
of that.
Minerva McGonagall could only nod, as in that moment she felt rather intimidated by
Albus attitude. Even in the obscured setting, it was clear to her that there was a reason this man
was who he was.
Sometimes I wonder why Dark Lords are frightened of you, and then I remember. she
said.
Albus chuckled, stroking his long beard absentmindedly, Minerva, you make an old man
blush. But I thank you for the compliment, nonetheless.
Youre not that old, Headmaster. she said quickly.
I am almost three times your age, if you recall. he said lightly.
And yet, you only look twice as old as I do. she smiled, while Albus just laughed. But
her smile suddenly went sour, as if the small moment of distraction only served as a reminder of
the terrible event that happened earlier that day.
Is he gone, Albus? she asked in a completely different tone than the one she had a
minute ago, like she was afraid and anxious of the answer. Is it true what they say?
Voldemort? he asked, ignoring the way McGonagall shivered at the name. No, I dont
think he is, at least not entirely. Last nights events certainly put him out of commission, possibly
rendered him powerless to a certain extent, but gone? No, the Dark Lord will come back
eventually, to seek revenge. This is why we are hiding the boy here, as it is the safest place for
him to be.
Most have already decided that he is dead, as you can see. McGonagall remarked.

Most people like the common version of the truth, regardless of its actuality. Albus
retorted, and McGonagall had to agree with him.
And the boy? How did he survive? she asked, ignoring the pang of sadness she felt
when thinking of his parents.
I have my suspicions, though none of them are close to what I would call a theory. It is
possible that the sacrifice Lily and James did for their son is the cause of his survival, but it
would be unheard of. There may be other factors in play, but right now, that sacrifice is the only
protection the boy has. said Albus gravely.
McGonagall inhaled deeply, to calm her nerves. The deaths of Lily and James hit her
hard, as they were two of her favourite students and later her closest friends. The injustice of it
all, how they were taken from the world so young and with so little happiness in their life, was
enough to anger her immensely. If their child had not survived, she doubted she could have held
it together.
Would I be remiss, she said, not looking in the Headmasters direction, even though he
couldnt see her properly in the dark, if I would ask to take care of the boy myself?
If it is proven that his relatives cannot take care of him like they should, then I will place
him in your care, protection at hand or not. nodded Albus. But until then, I would place him
with his last living family.
I understand, Albus. sighed McGonagall. How much longer do we have to wait? she
changed subjects.
Not long, if I am correct. Hagrid should be her any minute now, and I dont remember a
time where he was late. he responded.
The Headmaster barely finished his sentence, when the roar of an engine could be heard
from above. About a hundred and fifty feet in the air there was a massive figure flying overhead.
The figure landed on the street as the sound of the engine was cut off. The newcomer was a
mountain of a man, taller than most people, with a bundle around his chest, holding something
that was no bigger than a loaf of bread.
Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall. the man greeted the pair, as he
dismounted the motorcycle with a grunt.
Evening, Hagrid. said the Headmaster. There were no complications, I trust?
No sir, little tyke fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. he said, as he handed
the bundle to the aging professor.
Creative choice of transportation, Hagrid. remarked McGonagall, looking at the
motorcycle that she felt was familiar.
Yes, Sirius Black lent it to me. Poor lad, he was in a right state, he was. said Hagrid
sorrowfully.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a look, but did not comment any further.
They walked to the doorstep of Number 4 and placed the bundle right by the entrance, careful
not to wake up the small child wrapped up in blankets. McGonagall made a sound of surprise
when she saw a scar on his forehead, red and angry, shaped like a lightning bolt.
He will carry it all of his life, said Dumbledore, noting the other professors reaction
there is nothing we can do about it. He will be forever marked because of it.
There wont be a child who wont know his name. regarded McGonagall sadly.
Precisely, said Dumbledore. He needs to grow up far away from all of it, until he is
ready.
Surely, Albus, you do not want him ignorant of it all until he comes to the school!
McGonagall whispered angrily. He cannot remain in the dark for so long, he must be prepared
for it when the time comes!
I am aware, Minerva. Dumbledore responded calmly. I have written the Dursleys a
letter, he continued, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope with a wax seal on its
front. When the boy has questions, his relatives will be able to reach us and we will explain
everything. Do not worry, I have no intention of him arriving in our world unprepared, I merely
want him to have time away from those who would regard him as a saviour. Such high
expectations so early will undoubtedly only burden him further. he explained as he tucked the
letter in one of the blankets folds.
McGonagall felt slightly ashamed that she implied the Headmaster wasnt doing the right
thing and that she jumped at him, while he retained his calm and serene tone. But Dumbledore
only gave her a smile and assured Hagrid, who was now crying at the prospect of leaving the
boy, that it was not goodbye. The giant man wiped his tears and went back on the motorcycle,
while the two professors took one last look at the boy on the doorstep.
Good luck, Harry Potter. said Dumbledore, and with that, he and McGonagall vanished
into the night, with a single crack in their wake. The very next second, all the lights that were
previously drowned out returned to normal and the eerie silence of the street remained
unperturbed until dawn.
A few short hours later, Petunia Dursley woke up and made coffee for Vernon and her in
their kitchen downstairs. In her nightgown, while she was resting her back on a counter, waiting
for the coffee pot to finish, she saw something. Across the hall and outside of the front door, she
could see something through the semi transparent glass. There appeared to be something on her
doorstep, but she could not figure out what. Checking the clock, she saw that the milkman was
not due for another few minutes, right about the time the coffee finished and Vernon woke up.
Hoping it was not something the neighbourhood kids did as a joke, she approached the door and
opened it.
To say she was surprised was an understatement. She gasped, loudly, but put her hand
over her mouth in hopes of not making too much noise and waking the baby that was currently
on her doorstep.

Hurriedly, she took the child in her arms and took him inside the living room, dreading to
think what spending the night outside in early November had done to him, but the blankets he
was in were uncommonly warm, as if gently heated by a radiator somewhere nearby. Naturally,
Petunia thought that he was feverish, but a simple check of his forehead suggested otherwise.
That is when she saw the mark on the poor boys head. She contained another noise of surprise
and made sure it was not bleeding or infected, but made note not to touch it, as its proximity
raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
As far as she could tell, the child she was holding was quite all right, after inspecting him
for a minute or two. When she realised he was in no apparent danger, she thought to call the
police to let them know about this. Surely, this child had a family somewhere or someone who
could take care of him. She thought of Dudley and how she would feel if someone had taken
him; she would do anything to have him back. As a mother herself, it was her duty to take this
child with a strange scar on his head where he belonged.
Petunia missed the milkman when he delivered his goods and when her husband came
downstairs, but jumped slightly when Vernon closed the front door and went to the kitchen, milk
bottles in hand, with a sleepy Morning, Pet! when he saw her.
She looked at him with a stupefied face, still holding the child in the blankets, as he went
about his business in the kitchen. Vernon came in the living room with two cups of coffee and
sugar on a tray, smiling to himself.
Fine morning, isnt it -he said as he sat down the tray on a table, but he shut abruptly
when he saw his wife from the front. His mind supplied that it was their little Dudders, but he
was upstairs, still sleeping. Vernon knew this because he saw him when he turned on the baby
monitor before coming downstairs.
Vernon, I... she started, but could not find the right words.
Darling, whose child is this? the man asked carefully.
I-I dont know, Vernon. she said, still mind boggled about it. I just found him like this,
on our doorstep.
He... started Vernon in a loud voice, but calmed himself when he remembered the child
in the room, was what?! he finished in a concerned tone.
Yes, I know. I have no idea who he is or how he got that dreadful scar on his head. Oh,
Vernon, she pleaded, we have to do something. There must be someone looking for him!
Okay, Pet. Well have to contact the police. Vernon agreed. Is he alright?
Hes fine, I think. said Petunia, looking at him with sad eyes. Poor boy, who would
abandon him like this?
Vernon muttered something about irresponsible parents under his breath and made a
move to get the house phone to dial 999, but just when he was about to, he noticed something at
his wifes feet.

Tuney, darling, whats that? he pointed at the letter.

Petunia shot a glance at what her husband was pointing and grabbed it from the floor,
carefully balancing the boy in her arms, who was yet to make a sound. He was sleeping so
peacefully, Petunia dared not wake him.
She gave Vernon the letter, who sat down next to her. The waxing seal seemed familiar to
her, like she saw it before, but could not place when and where. Vernon read the contents, his
face going through ten different emotions and colours, finally resting on pale and horrified.
Petunia, darling... he said on a grave tone. Its about your sister and her husband... Im
sorry... he said eventually.
Petunia suddenly went cold, like her breath has been knocked out of her and she was
doused in ice. She could not move, could not speak a word. With a tremendous deal of dread, she
passed the child in her arms to her husband, who took the boy gently, and then she took the letter.
Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley,

It is with great sorrow that I must inform you that last night, on October 31 st 2001, Mrs
Dursleys sister and her husband passed away in their home in Godrics Hollow. They were
attacked by one Dark Lord Voldemort, who Im sure Mrs Dursley knows of, to some extent. I
offer you my deepest sympathies and condolences.
The boy you found this letter with is Harrison James Potter, their son and your nephew.
He is the only survivor of the attack and part of the reason the Dark Lord has been defeated. I
will not burden you with the details, but suffice it to say he is now in danger from his followers
and he needs to be somewhere safe. The magic Lily and James performed insures that he will be
safest where there is a blood relative; as it stands, you are his last living relatives and his only
chance at protection. It is with a heavy heart that I must place him in your care.
The boy, as you will discover, is a wizard. He will be offered a spot at Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry when he is of age, but until that time I trust you will tell him the truth
about his heritage. If you need help in that regard when the time comes, someone from school
will come and explain it to him. Mrs Dursley knows how to contact me.
I also realise that you already have a child and another one will be a financial strain on
you. For that reason, a payment for the childs needs will be made to you on a monthly basis, as
long as you accept to take him under your roof. Documents that are meant for the muggle
authorities stating what I said above will be available to you in the course of the day, with only
your signature and mailing required of you.
If you are not capable of taking care of him like you would any other child, or misuse the
payments sent for him, then he will be removed from your care. But I ask that you take care of
him, like you would for your son.
Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

The letter continued with a list of titles that Petunia didnt know or had a vague notion
about. She clutched the letter with a trembling hand and then she stood up to stand in front of her
living room window. As she let the tears fall from her face and small sobs escape her lips, she
thought of her sister. She had always been jealous of her, that she was second born and the apple
of their parents eyes, that she was always better than her at school, that she had been a witch and
she was not, able to do things she only imagined, that she married first, straight out of school,
while she went through her worst breakup in her life just before she met Vernon...
And all the while, Lily, kind, sweet, compassionate, forgiving and patient Lily never
turned on her, never shunned her, not for all the cruel and hurtful things Petunia did or said,
never once in their whole life. Lily had always been there for her sister, which was evident the
last time she saw her, when she and her husband saved the Dursleys life two years prior. Petunia
thought of her, of how brave she was in that time and she then realised how brave she had
always been, how she didnt care the way the wizarding world viewed her because of her family,
how she fought for a better chance at life and how it mustve been for her, in her very last
moments, when the person she was fighting came in her house and the last thing she did was
defend her son, not herself.
Without Lily, she realised, she wouldnt be standing there, in her living room, with her
husband on their couch and their son upstairs. She wouldnt have any of these things, possibly
not even her life.
She turned around, her face a terrified expression, to see her husband still holding the
child and looking at her expectantly.
Its up to you, Pet. If you want us to keep him, then we will. You read the letter, we
wont have any trouble with the money, we already have the space and Ill take more time off at
work to help around. he offered.
Petunia said nothing. She went to her husband, still sniffing from time to time, and took
Harry in her arms and cradled him as gently as she could. Slowly, little boy opened his eyes and
looked at his aunt for the first time in his life.
He had Potters features, sure, but his eyes were an exact copy of Lilys, green as an
emerald. The boy made a cooing noise and smiled as he reached his aunts cheeks and wiped her
tears away. Petunia gave a short laugh, happy and sad at the same time. She then felt the weight
that was put on her chest when she read that letter lift a little more, seeing the familiar eyes that
belonged to her father and her sister; she then knew that Lily was not lost to her forever, that she
still had a little piece of her still. And while she could never express her sorrows to her sister, or
gratitude for that matter, she could do this one thing as repayment.

We will take him in, Vernon. I want to. For... her. she finished, not being able to say her
name quite yet, hurt still present in her voice.
Just as she said that, the mailbox could be heard. A thump heavier than normal was
followed by the sound, signalling that the documents Dumbledore mentioned were delivered.
Vernon got up to get the mail almost automatically, and returned with a few postcards, some bills
and the official looking envelope. Her husband opened it and left it on the table.
Look, Petunia, if you want to do this, then you know Ill support you all the way. Well
take him, well treat him as our own and we will tell him the truth when the time comes. he
said, taking the time to measure his words as sincerely as he could. This was something not most
people witnessed, the gentler side of Vernon Dursley. It was why Petunia fell in love with him,
the fact that he could be a sensible and rational man when it came to it, not just the brute most
people would think he is. But if we do this, if we sign these papers, then there is no going back.
So I have to be sure that you are sure. he concluded.
Petunia looked at Harry, who was now playing with her nightgown, all smiles and
happiness. She looked at this product of Lilys love and thought that, if the roles were reversed,
Lily would take Dudley without a second glance.
Give me a pen, will you? she said instead of an answer. Vernon nodded, kissed her
cheek and went in the kitchen. Half an hour later, the documents were signed and were dropped
of at the post by Vernon, on his way to work. Vernon offered to take the day off and help his wife
with the new baby, but she insisted there was no need, as he had a vacation week in a few days,
and that she would be fine for now.
During his day, Vernon thought of his sister and brother in law. When he first met James
Potter, he was intimidated by the man and honestly scared of his magic and he knew that he
didnt act on his best behaviour. When Petunia revealed to him her sisters secret, he was
adamant that they have no contact with them. But because he loved his wife, he accepted to meet
the couple. In retrospect, their talents, as Vernon put it, had helped them in was he could not even
begin to repay. He wasnt that thrilled with magic, but he knew that Harry would have it, and that
there was nothing to do about it. He agreed to take on the responsibility of having a wizard, of all
things, in his house and that meant accepting it, regardless on his personal feelings about it.
Although, truth be told, ever since he last saw the Potters, he didnt have that much negativity
towards magic.
He called his sister, Marge, to tell her the news. He didnt tell her about the boys certain
aptitudes, as Marge, a fanatical religious woman at heart, would take it the wrong way, but he let
her know about the situation: that he was going to take care of his wifes nephew. Marge
congratulated him, as she would, on his selfless act.
Later, when Vernon got home, he was greeted by the sight of his wife making dinner, and
his son and nephew sitting together in a play-pen, making generally happy sounds and playing
with blocks. Dudley seemed to get along with Harry, at least at first glance.

Petunia? Im home! he announced. Dudley looked at him happily and said what
sounded like Da-da! Harry, however, pointed at him, made a noise of recognition and looked
expectantly at his aunt, as if he was showing that he knew him.
Petunia came in the hall, with an almost happy expression, given the circumstances.
Vernon knew that she cried after he left, but didnt say anything. She kissed him as a hello, took
his briefcase to put in the living room, and promptly went back to her meal.
Vernon turned his attention to the two boys. Dudley was his normal self, but Harry was
slightly confused about his location, like he knew something went wrong. Vernon knew that he
must be looking for his parents, but couldnt find them. He was old enough to remember them,
but perhaps he didnt remember how they died, or simply didnt know that something happened.
Da-da? asked Harry, looking at Vernon.
Uncle. Un-cle. he said.
Un-caw. replied Harry happily.
Uncaw? asked Dudley, suddenly aware of the exchange of words happening in front of
him.
Da-da. he said automatically to his son.
Da-da? asked Harry, who had a borderline confused expression on his face.
No, uncle. he said to Harry.
Uncaw! they both shouted at the same time. Vernon could swear he heard Petunia
laughing from the kitchen. Mildly frustrated, he changed tactics.
Da-da, he made sure to motion his hand between Dudley and him. Uncle. he said,
doing the same for Harry. Then the two boys shared a look between them, making Vernon pause
and blink, and suddenly he felt no more intelligent than the two children in front of him.
Thinking that it may have worked, he motioned for Dudley with his hand, waiting. Somehow,
trough sheer luck maybe, his son said Da-da, while Harry said Uncle.
Yes! said Vernon with a wide grin, making the two boys laugh at him cheerfully, before
remembering the toys they had in their possession and focused on those instead.
Vernon went into the kitchen to help set the table, but found his wife holding herself and
looking sadly at them. He went to hug her and held her against him, while she sobbed into his
arms.
A minute later, she retreated and wiped her tears. You had better luck than I did, she
said, sniffing. He struggles to pronounce the word aunt and just goes back to mama because
its easier. I tried with Petunia, but he just said Tuney, exactly like her. finished Petunia,
biting back more tears.
It will be alright, Pet. Vernon tried to comfort her. It will get easier.

I know. she said, looking at the boys, before putting a smile, turned to Vernon and
brushed the non-existent lint on his shoulders. Lets get them ready for dinner.
Vernon was thankful that Mrs Marin and Mr Reynolds both gave them a high chair for
toddlers back when Petunia was pregnant with Dudley. They said they would give the extra one
to whichever of their friends expected a baby next, but up until now there was no need. Vernon
took the extra one from the cupboard under the stairs, cleaned it with a wet cloth and put Harry
in it, while Petunia was dealing with Dudley. They sat at the table in the kitchen, with both boys
at their side, as they ate.
Is there going to be a funeral? asked Vernon, halfway through the meal.
I dont know. If there is, I doubt we can attend, not while its dangerous for Harry. she
said, not meeting his eyes. Once its safe and he is old enough to understand, well take him to
see their graves, if there will be any.
Alright. agreed Vernon. I called Marge, by the way. I let her know we are taking your
nephew in with us.
And? asked Petunia, gripping her fork tightly. She and Marge didnt always see eye-toeye, since Marge had a habit of sprouting rather conservative views on things, something Petunia
didnt appreciate. What did she say?
Ma-ma! said Dudley from her left. Dess-art! he continued, motioning for the cookies
on the counter beside him, to his right.
Finish your meal, first, sweetums. she said, pointing to his bowl and then taking her
fork repeatedly to her mouth to signal eating. Dudley looked a little put out and stared wistfully
at the cookies, while Harry continued to eat in silence.
She sends her condolences and that she prays for their souls. continued Vernon.
What did you tell them about their death? she asked tightly.
Dess-art! cried Dudley, but his mother said the same thing to him as before.
That they died in a car crash. Vernon said simply. I made a note to say that it wasnt
their fault.
Thank you. said Petunia, returning to her meal. No doubt she would paint them as
drunkards that didnt pay attention to the road. she continued bitterly.
Da-da! Dess-art! tried Dudley with his father, seeing that it wasnt working with his
mother.
Finish your meal, Dudders. You heard your mother. he stated firmly, making Dudley
pout. Harry seemed amused by the situation, making Dudley even fussier about it.
I wish you and her would get along better. said Vernon.
Du. said Harry all of a sudden.

And I wish she wouldnt keep saying that I am better at taking care of Dudley and
staying at home than being a journalist. she retorted.
Du. said Harry again.
Pet, you dont have to agree with her.
Du! cried Harry.
Well, I still havent forgiven her for what she said to Naomi.
Du! Du! cried Harry as loud as he could, to attract the attention of the adults.
Vernon turned to look at his nephew, who was jumping in his seat and pointing at Dudley,
who was currently reaching for the cookies on the counter. Problem was, the cookies were too far
away from him, and in his struggle to get to them, and Dudleys chair was starting to tilt
dangerously towards the counter.
What? asked Petunia worriedly and turned to look at her son at the same time Vernon
got up to drag Dudley back.
But Vernon was a split second late, as the moment he went to grab his son, Dudleys chair
lost all balance and started to go down rapidly, with Dudley in tow, whose head was approaching
the edge of the counter.
Then, before anyone could react further, Dudley stopped mid fall with his chair, at an
impossible angle. The next second, the chair was back in its place, with a very confused Dudley
in the seat.
The Dursleys exchanged horrified looks and then turned to Harry, who had his hand
aimed at Dudley, as if he wanted to catch him. For a second, the adults in the room had no idea
how to react. But then Petunia regained her composure.
Dudley, if you dont finish your meal, you dont get dessert! she chided her son, while
taking him out of the chair, motioned for Vernon to follow, and put Dudley in his playpen, as a
punishment. She hoped that by making this seem like a normal, Dudley wouldnt realise the
danger he was just in and get scared. If she didnt freak out, there was no reason for Dudley to
freak out. Next time you dont listen to mommy, I am taking your toys away! she wiggled her
finger at him. Something in her tone must have conveyed the warning, because Dudley crossed
his arms and sat down angrily, but he did not cry or make a fuss. He did something bad and now
he was punished, or so Petunia hoped he understood.
Sighing with relief and letting go of the tension in her shoulders, now sure that her little
boy was safe, she turned to see Vernon holding Harry, who was smiling.
Well now, said an equally amused and concerned Vernon, seems the little tyke is more
like his parents than we thought.

Petunia had to agree with her husband. This was the second time a Potter saved a
Dursley. While she was grateful on both accounts, she hoped there would be no need for it in the
future.