jab2033
Exit Light, Enter Night
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- Off to Never-Never Land
- Seen Mar 2, 2014
Author's Note: I've decided to publish my first ever fanfiction here on Pokecommunity. It's one of those "Characters read the books" fics, where characters in a book series recieve the books they're a part of and read about their past or future. I've seen this done in several book fandoms, including Twilight and Harry Potter. In many of those fics, time travel is involved and other characters from the past/future are brought into the reading.
In this case, Sirius Black (aka Padfoot) and Remus Lupin (aka Moony) receive Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone when Sirius makes a wish to get to know his godson. The two then read about Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Unlike other similar fics, Sirius and Remus will be the only two characters reading, and the only things time-traveling will be the books themselves. The person/people sending the books will be revealed once Sirius and Remus are done reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
The first chapter takes place at the end of the first week of Harry's fifth year. Sirius and Remus are living at Sirius' house, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, when they receive Book 1. Without further ado, here's Chapter 1.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All words in bold you recognize belong to JK Rowling.
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Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived
Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're okay, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend. We've got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum.
I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge.
We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon.
Please write back quickly.
Best,
Harry
"What's that, Padfoot?"
Sirius Black looked up as his best friend walked through the doorway. Remus Lupin, a man with brown graying hair and dressed in shabby wizard's robes poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and joined Sirius at the kitchen table of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius himself was a man with long, scraggly hair and blue eyes. His cheekbones were a bit hollow and eyes just a bit sunken. Twelve years in Azkaban had taken its toll on him.
"Letter from Harry," Sirius responded. "Did you know that Dolores Umbridge is the DADA teacher this year?"
Remus choked just as he took his first sip. "What?" He spluttered, juice dribbling down his front. "Is he serious?"
Sirius was extremely temped to make a pun, but controlled himself. "Yeah. Apparently his scar hurt while he was in detention with her."
Remus frowned. "His scar again? But Voldemort's nowhere near Hogwarts, is he?"
"I highly doubt it," Sirius replied. "Unless Umbridge is a Death Eater and that's what Harry was feeling. But she was never directly connected with them, was she?"
"No, she wasn't" Remus responded darkly.
"The only other option I can see is that Voldemort was feeling more emotional than usual. Dumbledore did say that was a possibility," Sirius said.
"Well I don't think we can do anything at the moment about it," Remus said. "It's too dangerous to send a letter and there's no way you can talk to him."
Sirius sighed. "I wish I could, Moony. I hate being holed up here. The place was actually bearable with him around." He paused. "I wish I knew him more. I don't know much about his first years at Hogwarts, and we don't really talk about his relatives either. The most we've talked about were a few stories about our Hogwarts days. But I need more than that. I want to know my Godson, Moony."
Remus looked at his friend sadly. "I know what you mean. I may have spent a year as his teacher, but we never talked about our personal lives. Most of our time together outside of classes was anti-Dementor lessons. And then we never saw each other for almost two years." He shook his head. "I think it's sad how little we know about our best friend's son."
WHACK!
"OW!"
Sirius had opened his mouth to respond when something hit him on the top of his head. Cursing and rubbing the growing lump on his head, Sirius picked up the offending object. It was a small red book, and Sirius froze at the title.
"Sirius?" Remus inquired. "What is it?"
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," Sirius read slowly. "You don't think…"
"That it's about Harry?" Remus finished. "Yes, I do. It's a little coincidental that it would appear right when we're talking about him."
"What's the Philosopher's Stone, though?" Sirius wondered.
"I'm not entirely sure," Remus admitted. "I think it has something to do with alchemy, though…"
"Well, we're both curious, so let's start reading," Sirius said. "Want to do the honors, Moony?"
"Oh, alright," Remus agreed. He took the book and opened it to the first chapter.
Chapter 1
The Boy Who Lived
"Three guesses who that is." Sirius quipped. "And the first two don't count."
Remus's lips twitched in amusement.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
"You're welcome."
"Padfoot…"
"What?" Insert innocent look here.
"This is going to take forever if you keep interrupting after every sentence."
"Well, we've got nothing better to do…"
"True enough…but please, let me keep reading."
They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
Sirius couldn't keep his curiosity in check. "What are drills?"
Remus sighed. "You took Muggle Studies, Padfoot, to annoy your mother, remember?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "But I only paid attention to the cool stuff. Like weapons, and the telly. So I'll ask again: what are drills?"
Remus gave another sigh. "Drills are tools muggles use to put holes in things."
"Why would they want to do that?"
"So they can fix things. I'm moving on, now…"
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. 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.
"Such flattering descriptions," Sirius sniggered. "They sound like a walrus and a giraffe."
Remus ignored him, and kept on reading.
The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
"Why do I doubt that?"
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
"There was nothing wrong with James and Lily!" Sirius growled. "There's nothing wrong with Harry, either!"
Dark looks crossed the faces of the two remaining Marauders. Remus continued to read in a tight voice, his normally brown eyes flashing amber.
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister,because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish
"Is that a word?"
"It is now."
as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.
"Probably, 'Hello, welcome to Privet Drive,' unless the neighbors are as bad as the Dursleys."
"You just interrupted yourself, Moony."
"Shut up, Padfoot."
The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had 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.
"A child like what?" Sirius demanded. "What do these people have against Harry?"
Remus growled lowly, doing his best to keep his werewolf instincts in check. But it wasn't easy when someone the wolf considered a pack mate was being insulted.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray
"Sunday!" Sirius interjected.
Remus chuckled. Sirius certainly knew how to relieve tension.
Tuesday
"Damn!"
our story starts,
"Hasn't it already started?" the dog animagus wondered.
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,
"What? Come on, Dursley! Live a little!"
and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
"Brat."
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
"Why would there be an owl in a Muggle neighborhood?"
Remus looked at Sirius. "Good question." He then recalled the chapter title and the age Dudley had been described as. The werewolf blanched. "Oh, Merlin. You don't think it's that day, do you?"
Sirius's face darkened. "Now that you mention it, I think that's a very good possibility."
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.
"Brat."
"I heard you the first time, Padfoot."
"Little tyke,"
Sirius snorted. "Little. Yeah, right."
"Well, he probably was little, as a baby," Remus said logically.
"That's probably about the only time he was little, according to Harry."
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.
"Minnie!"
Remus blinked. It was the first time he'd heard Sirius' nickname for Minerva McGonagall since their school days. Merlin, that brought back memories…
"Wait," said Sirius, breaking Remus out of his thoughts. "What's she doing on Privet Drive? And if you're right, on that day?"
Remus frowned. "I'm not liking the possibilities I'm thinking of."
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.
"Oh, yeah. Sure it was, Dursley."
Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.
Sirius shuddered slightly. "I wonder if it's the McGonagall Glare of Doom? If it is, Dursley's in trouble."
"I don't think it's the Glare of Doom, Padfoot," Remus said, though he too was looking warily at the book. Considering how many of Sirius' pranks he'd participated in during school, he'd been on the receiving side of the "Glare of Doom" rather often himself.
As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror.
"That's dangerous," Remus commented. "He should be watching the road. He could get in a wreck or something."
"If only, Moony. If only."
It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.
"If they're Minnie they can!" Sirius said brightly.
Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
"Boring!"
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,
"Traffic jam?" Sirius wondered. "What's that?"
"A traffic jam is when there are so many cars on the road they can't go anywhere, or they can only go very slowly," Remus explained.
"Why would there be a traffic jam, though?"
Remus shrugged. "Who knows? Major accidents can cause a jam by blocking the road, and sometimes there are just a lot of people out on the roads for some reason or another."
he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.
"I think you're right, Moony," Sirius said. All humor was gone from his voice. "I think it is that day."
Remus nodded heavily. "I think so too."
Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.
"Uh-huh. Right."
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes
"OI! I resent that!"
standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it.
"Wow. The lengths some muggles will go to avoid magic."
The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
"And what an exciting place for it to be."
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor.
"But why not enjoy the view?" Sirius wondered. "Dursley give a whole new meaning to the word 'boring'."
If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
"Honestly, even I'm not that careless."
Remus gave Sirius an incredulous look. "Really, Sirius? Really?"
"Okay, so I was careless, once." Another look from Remus. "Or twice," Sirius amended. "What is this, 'Pick on Padfoot Day' or something?"
"No, that's tomorrow," Remus deadpanned. "I'm just practicing today."
Sirius pouted.
Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
"Productive morning for him, then wasn't it?"
He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
"The book must be mistaken. Harry says Dursley is a lazy oaf. Doesn't like having to do things for himself."
"Maybe the author got the wrong Dursley?" Remus suggested.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.
"Good. He needs to get his knickers in a twist every so often. Keeps him on his toes."
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 hearts of the two Marauders sank. Any doubts they had about the day described in the book vanished. Both of them remembered the day clearly. It was the day they had lost their best friends. The day Sirius had lost his freedom for crimes he hadn't committed. It was the day they both thought they'd lost everything.
"Remus…" Sirius' voice was hoarse. His throat dry, he turned to his last best friend with a haunted look in his eyes.
"Do you want to keep going, Padfoot?," Remus asked thickly.
Sirius closed his eyes in pain, then nodded. "Yes. I want to hear about Harry."
"Alright."
Mr. Dursley stopped dead.
Both flinched at the word "dead," remembering the fates of James and Lily Potter.
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.
"That must have taken awhile," Sirius said. But his voice lacked the humor it had had previously.
He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.
"Too right, you are."
Potter wasn't such an unusual name.
"It is unusual in the wizarding world."
He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry.
"Of course there are."
Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey.
Sirius mimed vomiting over the table.
Or Harold.
He pretended to vomit again.
"You know," Remus said. "Harold can be shortened to Harry."
"Yeah, but just Harry is so much better."
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…
"Stop insulting Lily, you walrus!" Sirius snarled.
Remus' eyes began to flash amber again as he read.
but all the same, those people in cloaks…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.
"And I'll bet the bloke was suffocated by Dursley's blubber."
"Sorry," he grunted,
"Bet that was hard; apologizing."
as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.
"You mean he wasn't suffocated by blubber?"
It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!
The light of humor that had been rekindled in Sirius' eyes suddenly vanished. Yes, Voldemort had been vanquished. But it hadn't been for good. And Voldemort's first defeat had come at a very high cost.
Remus and Sirius looked at each other. "Keep going, Moony," Sirius sighed. Remus nodded.
Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"
Even if Sirius had avoided Azkaban, both Marauders wouldn't have felt like celebrating. Two of their friends had just died, and a third had turned traitor.
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
"You mean his arms fit?" Sirius muttered.
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.
"A non-magical person," Remus said. Sirius snorted.
"You're talking to a book, Moony."
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.
Sirius looked horrified. "How did Harry survive?"
"That," Remus said, shaking his head. "is a very good question."
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.
"Definitely Minnie," Sirius said. "Although how Dursley noticed the markings I have no idea. Didn't think he was that observant."
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.
"Goodbye, Dursley," Sirius said brightly. "It wasn't nice knowing you!"
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.
Sirius' jaw dropped. "You mean he wasn't transfigured into a walrus? Hmmm….Maybe the cat's not Minnie after all…"
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.
"Coward."
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!").
"Productive day for her, too."
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?"
"Really? It made the muggle news? I know people are happy about Voldemort being gone, but this is ridiculous."
"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!
"Hey, why didn't we ever think of something like that?"
"I think our pranks were a bit bigger than that, Padfoot."
"Hmmm. Maybe. I'd still like to meet the person who did that. Then they can tell me how to do it."
"No."
"But Moony – "
"I said 'no', Padfoot."
Sirius pouted.
Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
"He's putting things together. Not good."
"But Padfoot, he already knew about magic. It's not that big of a deal if he works it out."
"Oh, yeah."
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good.
"The Tea?"
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.
"Stupid woman."
"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."
"What the hell does that mean?" Sirius demanded. "Her crowd?"
"I think he means wizards and witches, Padfoot."
Sirius grumbled under his breath, cursing at Dursley.
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.
"I say again: coward."
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."
"Well, no one asked you," Sirius snapped, glaring at the book.
"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.
"Minnie's got a stalker!" Sirius sing-songed.
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.
"Hm. Maybe I should write a letter to the Daily Prophet anonymously that says they're related to wizards, and then send Dursley a copy of the 'letters to the editor' page that it appears in. Bet it would be funny to see his reaction."
The Dursleys got into bed.
Sirius blanched. "Thanks for that image, Moony. A Walrus and a Giraffe in bed. I'm gonna need some Dreamless Sleep tonight."
"Ugh," Remus said, making a face. "Thank you for that image. Thanks a lot, Padfoot." Looking slightly disturbed, Remus continued to read.
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…
"Oh, how very wrong you are, Dursley." Sirius said, shaking his head. "How very wrong you are."
How very wrong he was.
"Hey! The book stole my words!"
"Actually, I think you stole the book's words, Padfoot," Remus argued.
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't!"
"No, you didn't," said Remus, smirking slightly. Sirius didn't notice
"Yes, I did! Wait – " Sirius paused, then cursed. "Dammit, I hate it when you do that!"
Remus chuckled, then continued to read.
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. Minnie's got patience. I don't think I'd be able to stay still that long."
"You weren't so sure it was Minnie before, when Dursley was shooing her," Remus pointed out.
"I changed my mind. No normal cat can sit still that long."
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.
"Apparation."
"Actually, apparition makes a popping or cracking sound. It was most likely a Portkey."
"Or that."
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.
"Dumbledore!"
This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
"Told you!"
"No one disagreed, Padfoot."
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
"He probably didn't care."
He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
"What should he have known? Dumbledore knows everything!"
"Not everything, Padfoot," Remus said darkly. "He didn't know about Wormtail."
Sirius groaned. "Did you have to remind me?"
Remus shrugged an apology. "Sorry."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
"I want one!"
"That's Dumbledore's Deluminator, Padfoot. You can't have it."
Sirius looked crestfallen.
He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer,
"Moony, you said it was a Deluminator. Why is the book calling it a Put-Outer?"
"Maybe the author doesn't know what it's called?"
until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer
"It's a Deluminator! Stupid author should get the names right."
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."
"I knew it was her!"
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.
"There's only one cat with markings around the eyes like that."
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
Sirius snickered. "Or that."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"My back hurts just thinking about doing that," Sirius groaned.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating?
The two Marauders looked at each other. Why celebrate when James and Lily were dead?
I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
"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."
"Hey, thanks, Minnie! Now I can have Dedalus teach me the spell for the shooting stars!"
"No, Padfoot!"
"But –"
"No."
Sirius sulked. "Stop ruining my fun, Moony."
"Somebody has to do it."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
Remus and Sirius sighed in agreement. The horrors of that first war were something they never wanted to experience again. But with Voldemort back, they both knew it wouldn't be long before he picked up from where he left off.
"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?"
"I wish he was," Sirius murmured. "I really do."
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"Dumbledore and his sweets," Remus said, shaking his head.
"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.
"But it's always the moment for lemon drops!" Remus protested. "Or at least chocolate."
"Chocoholic."
"And proud of it." Remus took a bar of chocolate out of his robes and unwrapped it. After taking a bite, he began to read again.
"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 —
"It really is nonsense," Sirius agreed. "Some people don't know who."
"It also gives him more power," Remus added. "The more fear people have of the name, the more Voldemort can use that fear to his advantage."
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."
"Fear the person, not the name," Remus added.
"Wise words, Moony. Wise words."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"That's because he's too noble to use them."
"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."
"No!" Sirius cried in mock-horror. "I don't want to be like Minnie!"
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
"Too much info, Dumbledore!" Sirius cried. Remus looked like he agreed with Sirius.
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?"
And gloom descended upon the two Marauders again. They knew exactly what stopped Voldemort, and didn't want to read about it. But they would, if only to get to the parts about Harry.
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."
Remus read through that last sentence extremely quickly. Sirius was looking at his knees, sorrow and guilt coursing through him. In a way, it was his fault that James and Lily were dead. If he hadn't suggested switching Secret-Keepers, Wormtail wouldn't have sold them to Voldemort. It was his fault. All his fault…
A lump formed in Remus' throat. He swallowed, then looked at Sirius. The animagus had a dull look on his face, his eyes glazed over as he was lost in his guilt. Remus put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Sirius started, glanced at him, then looked away.
"It's not your fault, Padfoot," Remus said softly. He certainly didn't blame him. And he knew James wouldn't either.
"I suggested they switch…" Sirius said thickly.
"Yes," Remus agreed. "But it was Wormtail's choice to betray them. Not yours. Never yours."
Sirius gave a heavy sigh. "Logically, I know you're right. I just…I don't know if I'll be able to get past it emotionally."
"I'll help you," Remus vowed. "I promise."
"Thanks, Moony," Sirius said gratefully. "Come on. Let's keep going with the book."
"Are you sure?" Remus asked.
Sirius nodded. "Yeah. I want to read about my godson." Remus nodded and continued.
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.
"James and Lily must have made quite the impression on them." Sirius said softly.
Remus nodded.
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."
Sirius grinned slightly. "My godson is awesome."
Remus chuckled in agreement.
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."
"I'll bet he knows," Sirius said.
"If he doesn't, he's got a shrewd idea," Remus agreed. "And Dumbledore's shrewd ideas usually turn out to be accurate."
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.
"Nothing odd about that."
"Muggle watches are a bit different than that, Padfoot."
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."
"Something tells me that's a bad idea," Sirius said. "Lily's sister hates magic. I don't think she'd be too happy about having a wizard in the house."
"What's Dumbledore playing at?" Remus frowned. "Why is he sending Harry to live with people who hate him?"
"Good question, Moony. Keep reading. Maybe we can find out."
"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!"
"Wow! Go, Minnie!"
"I don't think I like Dudley," said Remus, frowning again.
"Neither do I."
"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."
"What? A letter? Come on, Dumbledore!"
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?
"Look, Padfoot, you're becoming more like McGonagall every minute now."
"The horror!"
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
"That didn't come true, thank goodness."
— there will be books written about Harry
"Like this one, for instance?"
— every child in our world will know his name!"
"Not just the kids, Minnie."
"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 you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
"Dumbledore's got a good point, but why Lily's sister? He knows she hates magic."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course.
"Aw, why did Minnie have to back down? She never does that!"
But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"Strange image, there."
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with Harry's life," Sirius said. "Hagrid loves Harry."
"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.
"Unfortunately, she has a point," Remus admitted. "He can't keep a secret to save his life."
"Except how he got expelled," Sirius pointed out. "Even we never found that out."
He does tend to — what was that?" A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
"Hey, it's my motorbike! I forgot about that!"
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.
"Hagrid."
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.
"Feet like dolphins? What the hell?"
In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Harry."
"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.
"Hey, I'm mentioned!" Sirius paused. "I wonder if he still has my bike? I'll have to ask next time I see him."
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."
Sirius smiled softly at the thought. His godson had been one cute baby.
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.
"Damn scar." Sirius hated it just as much as Harry did. It was a reminder of why Harry was famous, and what he and Remus had lost.
Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Unfortunately."
"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.
"Say what? How the hell is that possible?"
"Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
Sirius grumbled under his breath about stupid headmasters and stupid Dursleys.
"Could I — could I say good-bye 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.
"Poor Hagrid."
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"As if that would be a tragedy."
"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,"
"She could be a little bit more caring."
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.
"WHAT? He left Harry on the doorstep?!"
Remus was shaking his head. "He could have at least talked to the Dursleys and explained a few things," he agreed. "What if they didn't take him in?"
"Then there would've been hell to pay," Sirius said firmly.
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 in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well, he's upset."
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.
"Really, Dumbledore? Join the celebrations? You drop The Boy Who Lived on a doorstep like tomorrow's newspaper and all you can say is, 'We may as well go and join the celebrations'?!"
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.
"Too bad I never got it."
G'night Professor McGongall-Professor Dumbledore, sir" Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorbike 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 he nose in reply.
"Nice, Minnie."
Dumbledore 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 Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange
"That's cool. I still want a Deluminator."
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. A breeze ruffled the 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 up in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles,
"What a wonderful way to wake up."
nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley...
Growl. "Dudley had better not hurt my godson."
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!"
Silence fell as Remus set the book down. "Well," he said. "That was interesting."
"Emotional, too," Sirius agreed. "What time is it?"
Checking his watch, Remus replied, "Around lunchtime. Want to eat before we start the next chapter?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "KREACHER!"
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Well, that's it. I'll be working on Chapter 2 this week. Hopefully I'll get it up by Friday or Saturday.
Reviews are welcome.
In this case, Sirius Black (aka Padfoot) and Remus Lupin (aka Moony) receive Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone when Sirius makes a wish to get to know his godson. The two then read about Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Unlike other similar fics, Sirius and Remus will be the only two characters reading, and the only things time-traveling will be the books themselves. The person/people sending the books will be revealed once Sirius and Remus are done reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
The first chapter takes place at the end of the first week of Harry's fifth year. Sirius and Remus are living at Sirius' house, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, when they receive Book 1. Without further ado, here's Chapter 1.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All words in bold you recognize belong to JK Rowling.
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Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived
Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're okay, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend. We've got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum.
I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge.
We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon.
Please write back quickly.
Best,
Harry
"What's that, Padfoot?"
Sirius Black looked up as his best friend walked through the doorway. Remus Lupin, a man with brown graying hair and dressed in shabby wizard's robes poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and joined Sirius at the kitchen table of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius himself was a man with long, scraggly hair and blue eyes. His cheekbones were a bit hollow and eyes just a bit sunken. Twelve years in Azkaban had taken its toll on him.
"Letter from Harry," Sirius responded. "Did you know that Dolores Umbridge is the DADA teacher this year?"
Remus choked just as he took his first sip. "What?" He spluttered, juice dribbling down his front. "Is he serious?"
Sirius was extremely temped to make a pun, but controlled himself. "Yeah. Apparently his scar hurt while he was in detention with her."
Remus frowned. "His scar again? But Voldemort's nowhere near Hogwarts, is he?"
"I highly doubt it," Sirius replied. "Unless Umbridge is a Death Eater and that's what Harry was feeling. But she was never directly connected with them, was she?"
"No, she wasn't" Remus responded darkly.
"The only other option I can see is that Voldemort was feeling more emotional than usual. Dumbledore did say that was a possibility," Sirius said.
"Well I don't think we can do anything at the moment about it," Remus said. "It's too dangerous to send a letter and there's no way you can talk to him."
Sirius sighed. "I wish I could, Moony. I hate being holed up here. The place was actually bearable with him around." He paused. "I wish I knew him more. I don't know much about his first years at Hogwarts, and we don't really talk about his relatives either. The most we've talked about were a few stories about our Hogwarts days. But I need more than that. I want to know my Godson, Moony."
Remus looked at his friend sadly. "I know what you mean. I may have spent a year as his teacher, but we never talked about our personal lives. Most of our time together outside of classes was anti-Dementor lessons. And then we never saw each other for almost two years." He shook his head. "I think it's sad how little we know about our best friend's son."
WHACK!
"OW!"
Sirius had opened his mouth to respond when something hit him on the top of his head. Cursing and rubbing the growing lump on his head, Sirius picked up the offending object. It was a small red book, and Sirius froze at the title.
"Sirius?" Remus inquired. "What is it?"
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," Sirius read slowly. "You don't think…"
"That it's about Harry?" Remus finished. "Yes, I do. It's a little coincidental that it would appear right when we're talking about him."
"What's the Philosopher's Stone, though?" Sirius wondered.
"I'm not entirely sure," Remus admitted. "I think it has something to do with alchemy, though…"
"Well, we're both curious, so let's start reading," Sirius said. "Want to do the honors, Moony?"
"Oh, alright," Remus agreed. He took the book and opened it to the first chapter.
Chapter 1
The Boy Who Lived
"Three guesses who that is." Sirius quipped. "And the first two don't count."
Remus's lips twitched in amusement.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
"You're welcome."
"Padfoot…"
"What?" Insert innocent look here.
"This is going to take forever if you keep interrupting after every sentence."
"Well, we've got nothing better to do…"
"True enough…but please, let me keep reading."
They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
Sirius couldn't keep his curiosity in check. "What are drills?"
Remus sighed. "You took Muggle Studies, Padfoot, to annoy your mother, remember?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "But I only paid attention to the cool stuff. Like weapons, and the telly. So I'll ask again: what are drills?"
Remus gave another sigh. "Drills are tools muggles use to put holes in things."
"Why would they want to do that?"
"So they can fix things. I'm moving on, now…"
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. 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.
"Such flattering descriptions," Sirius sniggered. "They sound like a walrus and a giraffe."
Remus ignored him, and kept on reading.
The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
"Why do I doubt that?"
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
"There was nothing wrong with James and Lily!" Sirius growled. "There's nothing wrong with Harry, either!"
Dark looks crossed the faces of the two remaining Marauders. Remus continued to read in a tight voice, his normally brown eyes flashing amber.
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister,because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish
"Is that a word?"
"It is now."
as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.
"Probably, 'Hello, welcome to Privet Drive,' unless the neighbors are as bad as the Dursleys."
"You just interrupted yourself, Moony."
"Shut up, Padfoot."
The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had 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.
"A child like what?" Sirius demanded. "What do these people have against Harry?"
Remus growled lowly, doing his best to keep his werewolf instincts in check. But it wasn't easy when someone the wolf considered a pack mate was being insulted.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray
"Sunday!" Sirius interjected.
Remus chuckled. Sirius certainly knew how to relieve tension.
Tuesday
"Damn!"
our story starts,
"Hasn't it already started?" the dog animagus wondered.
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,
"What? Come on, Dursley! Live a little!"
and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
"Brat."
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
"Why would there be an owl in a Muggle neighborhood?"
Remus looked at Sirius. "Good question." He then recalled the chapter title and the age Dudley had been described as. The werewolf blanched. "Oh, Merlin. You don't think it's that day, do you?"
Sirius's face darkened. "Now that you mention it, I think that's a very good possibility."
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.
"Brat."
"I heard you the first time, Padfoot."
"Little tyke,"
Sirius snorted. "Little. Yeah, right."
"Well, he probably was little, as a baby," Remus said logically.
"That's probably about the only time he was little, according to Harry."
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.
"Minnie!"
Remus blinked. It was the first time he'd heard Sirius' nickname for Minerva McGonagall since their school days. Merlin, that brought back memories…
"Wait," said Sirius, breaking Remus out of his thoughts. "What's she doing on Privet Drive? And if you're right, on that day?"
Remus frowned. "I'm not liking the possibilities I'm thinking of."
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.
"Oh, yeah. Sure it was, Dursley."
Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.
Sirius shuddered slightly. "I wonder if it's the McGonagall Glare of Doom? If it is, Dursley's in trouble."
"I don't think it's the Glare of Doom, Padfoot," Remus said, though he too was looking warily at the book. Considering how many of Sirius' pranks he'd participated in during school, he'd been on the receiving side of the "Glare of Doom" rather often himself.
As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror.
"That's dangerous," Remus commented. "He should be watching the road. He could get in a wreck or something."
"If only, Moony. If only."
It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.
"If they're Minnie they can!" Sirius said brightly.
Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
"Boring!"
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,
"Traffic jam?" Sirius wondered. "What's that?"
"A traffic jam is when there are so many cars on the road they can't go anywhere, or they can only go very slowly," Remus explained.
"Why would there be a traffic jam, though?"
Remus shrugged. "Who knows? Major accidents can cause a jam by blocking the road, and sometimes there are just a lot of people out on the roads for some reason or another."
he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.
"I think you're right, Moony," Sirius said. All humor was gone from his voice. "I think it is that day."
Remus nodded heavily. "I think so too."
Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.
"Uh-huh. Right."
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes
"OI! I resent that!"
standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it.
"Wow. The lengths some muggles will go to avoid magic."
The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
"And what an exciting place for it to be."
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor.
"But why not enjoy the view?" Sirius wondered. "Dursley give a whole new meaning to the word 'boring'."
If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
"Honestly, even I'm not that careless."
Remus gave Sirius an incredulous look. "Really, Sirius? Really?"
"Okay, so I was careless, once." Another look from Remus. "Or twice," Sirius amended. "What is this, 'Pick on Padfoot Day' or something?"
"No, that's tomorrow," Remus deadpanned. "I'm just practicing today."
Sirius pouted.
Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
"Productive morning for him, then wasn't it?"
He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
"The book must be mistaken. Harry says Dursley is a lazy oaf. Doesn't like having to do things for himself."
"Maybe the author got the wrong Dursley?" Remus suggested.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.
"Good. He needs to get his knickers in a twist every so often. Keeps him on his toes."
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 hearts of the two Marauders sank. Any doubts they had about the day described in the book vanished. Both of them remembered the day clearly. It was the day they had lost their best friends. The day Sirius had lost his freedom for crimes he hadn't committed. It was the day they both thought they'd lost everything.
"Remus…" Sirius' voice was hoarse. His throat dry, he turned to his last best friend with a haunted look in his eyes.
"Do you want to keep going, Padfoot?," Remus asked thickly.
Sirius closed his eyes in pain, then nodded. "Yes. I want to hear about Harry."
"Alright."
Mr. Dursley stopped dead.
Both flinched at the word "dead," remembering the fates of James and Lily Potter.
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.
"That must have taken awhile," Sirius said. But his voice lacked the humor it had had previously.
He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.
"Too right, you are."
Potter wasn't such an unusual name.
"It is unusual in the wizarding world."
He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry.
"Of course there are."
Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey.
Sirius mimed vomiting over the table.
Or Harold.
He pretended to vomit again.
"You know," Remus said. "Harold can be shortened to Harry."
"Yeah, but just Harry is so much better."
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…
"Stop insulting Lily, you walrus!" Sirius snarled.
Remus' eyes began to flash amber again as he read.
but all the same, those people in cloaks…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.
"And I'll bet the bloke was suffocated by Dursley's blubber."
"Sorry," he grunted,
"Bet that was hard; apologizing."
as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.
"You mean he wasn't suffocated by blubber?"
It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!
The light of humor that had been rekindled in Sirius' eyes suddenly vanished. Yes, Voldemort had been vanquished. But it hadn't been for good. And Voldemort's first defeat had come at a very high cost.
Remus and Sirius looked at each other. "Keep going, Moony," Sirius sighed. Remus nodded.
Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"
Even if Sirius had avoided Azkaban, both Marauders wouldn't have felt like celebrating. Two of their friends had just died, and a third had turned traitor.
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
"You mean his arms fit?" Sirius muttered.
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.
"A non-magical person," Remus said. Sirius snorted.
"You're talking to a book, Moony."
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.
Sirius looked horrified. "How did Harry survive?"
"That," Remus said, shaking his head. "is a very good question."
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.
"Definitely Minnie," Sirius said. "Although how Dursley noticed the markings I have no idea. Didn't think he was that observant."
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.
"Goodbye, Dursley," Sirius said brightly. "It wasn't nice knowing you!"
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.
Sirius' jaw dropped. "You mean he wasn't transfigured into a walrus? Hmmm….Maybe the cat's not Minnie after all…"
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.
"Coward."
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!").
"Productive day for her, too."
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?"
"Really? It made the muggle news? I know people are happy about Voldemort being gone, but this is ridiculous."
"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!
"Hey, why didn't we ever think of something like that?"
"I think our pranks were a bit bigger than that, Padfoot."
"Hmmm. Maybe. I'd still like to meet the person who did that. Then they can tell me how to do it."
"No."
"But Moony – "
"I said 'no', Padfoot."
Sirius pouted.
Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
"He's putting things together. Not good."
"But Padfoot, he already knew about magic. It's not that big of a deal if he works it out."
"Oh, yeah."
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good.
"The Tea?"
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.
"Stupid woman."
"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."
"What the hell does that mean?" Sirius demanded. "Her crowd?"
"I think he means wizards and witches, Padfoot."
Sirius grumbled under his breath, cursing at Dursley.
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.
"I say again: coward."
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."
"Well, no one asked you," Sirius snapped, glaring at the book.
"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.
"Minnie's got a stalker!" Sirius sing-songed.
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.
"Hm. Maybe I should write a letter to the Daily Prophet anonymously that says they're related to wizards, and then send Dursley a copy of the 'letters to the editor' page that it appears in. Bet it would be funny to see his reaction."
The Dursleys got into bed.
Sirius blanched. "Thanks for that image, Moony. A Walrus and a Giraffe in bed. I'm gonna need some Dreamless Sleep tonight."
"Ugh," Remus said, making a face. "Thank you for that image. Thanks a lot, Padfoot." Looking slightly disturbed, Remus continued to read.
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…
"Oh, how very wrong you are, Dursley." Sirius said, shaking his head. "How very wrong you are."
How very wrong he was.
"Hey! The book stole my words!"
"Actually, I think you stole the book's words, Padfoot," Remus argued.
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't!"
"No, you didn't," said Remus, smirking slightly. Sirius didn't notice
"Yes, I did! Wait – " Sirius paused, then cursed. "Dammit, I hate it when you do that!"
Remus chuckled, then continued to read.
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. Minnie's got patience. I don't think I'd be able to stay still that long."
"You weren't so sure it was Minnie before, when Dursley was shooing her," Remus pointed out.
"I changed my mind. No normal cat can sit still that long."
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.
"Apparation."
"Actually, apparition makes a popping or cracking sound. It was most likely a Portkey."
"Or that."
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.
"Dumbledore!"
This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
"Told you!"
"No one disagreed, Padfoot."
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
"He probably didn't care."
He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
"What should he have known? Dumbledore knows everything!"
"Not everything, Padfoot," Remus said darkly. "He didn't know about Wormtail."
Sirius groaned. "Did you have to remind me?"
Remus shrugged an apology. "Sorry."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
"I want one!"
"That's Dumbledore's Deluminator, Padfoot. You can't have it."
Sirius looked crestfallen.
He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer,
"Moony, you said it was a Deluminator. Why is the book calling it a Put-Outer?"
"Maybe the author doesn't know what it's called?"
until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer
"It's a Deluminator! Stupid author should get the names right."
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."
"I knew it was her!"
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.
"There's only one cat with markings around the eyes like that."
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
Sirius snickered. "Or that."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"My back hurts just thinking about doing that," Sirius groaned.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating?
The two Marauders looked at each other. Why celebrate when James and Lily were dead?
I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
"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."
"Hey, thanks, Minnie! Now I can have Dedalus teach me the spell for the shooting stars!"
"No, Padfoot!"
"But –"
"No."
Sirius sulked. "Stop ruining my fun, Moony."
"Somebody has to do it."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
Remus and Sirius sighed in agreement. The horrors of that first war were something they never wanted to experience again. But with Voldemort back, they both knew it wouldn't be long before he picked up from where he left off.
"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?"
"I wish he was," Sirius murmured. "I really do."
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"Dumbledore and his sweets," Remus said, shaking his head.
"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.
"But it's always the moment for lemon drops!" Remus protested. "Or at least chocolate."
"Chocoholic."
"And proud of it." Remus took a bar of chocolate out of his robes and unwrapped it. After taking a bite, he began to read again.
"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 —
"It really is nonsense," Sirius agreed. "Some people don't know who."
"It also gives him more power," Remus added. "The more fear people have of the name, the more Voldemort can use that fear to his advantage."
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."
"Fear the person, not the name," Remus added.
"Wise words, Moony. Wise words."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"That's because he's too noble to use them."
"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."
"No!" Sirius cried in mock-horror. "I don't want to be like Minnie!"
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
"Too much info, Dumbledore!" Sirius cried. Remus looked like he agreed with Sirius.
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?"
And gloom descended upon the two Marauders again. They knew exactly what stopped Voldemort, and didn't want to read about it. But they would, if only to get to the parts about Harry.
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."
Remus read through that last sentence extremely quickly. Sirius was looking at his knees, sorrow and guilt coursing through him. In a way, it was his fault that James and Lily were dead. If he hadn't suggested switching Secret-Keepers, Wormtail wouldn't have sold them to Voldemort. It was his fault. All his fault…
A lump formed in Remus' throat. He swallowed, then looked at Sirius. The animagus had a dull look on his face, his eyes glazed over as he was lost in his guilt. Remus put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Sirius started, glanced at him, then looked away.
"It's not your fault, Padfoot," Remus said softly. He certainly didn't blame him. And he knew James wouldn't either.
"I suggested they switch…" Sirius said thickly.
"Yes," Remus agreed. "But it was Wormtail's choice to betray them. Not yours. Never yours."
Sirius gave a heavy sigh. "Logically, I know you're right. I just…I don't know if I'll be able to get past it emotionally."
"I'll help you," Remus vowed. "I promise."
"Thanks, Moony," Sirius said gratefully. "Come on. Let's keep going with the book."
"Are you sure?" Remus asked.
Sirius nodded. "Yeah. I want to read about my godson." Remus nodded and continued.
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.
"James and Lily must have made quite the impression on them." Sirius said softly.
Remus nodded.
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."
Sirius grinned slightly. "My godson is awesome."
Remus chuckled in agreement.
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."
"I'll bet he knows," Sirius said.
"If he doesn't, he's got a shrewd idea," Remus agreed. "And Dumbledore's shrewd ideas usually turn out to be accurate."
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.
"Nothing odd about that."
"Muggle watches are a bit different than that, Padfoot."
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."
"Something tells me that's a bad idea," Sirius said. "Lily's sister hates magic. I don't think she'd be too happy about having a wizard in the house."
"What's Dumbledore playing at?" Remus frowned. "Why is he sending Harry to live with people who hate him?"
"Good question, Moony. Keep reading. Maybe we can find out."
"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!"
"Wow! Go, Minnie!"
"I don't think I like Dudley," said Remus, frowning again.
"Neither do I."
"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."
"What? A letter? Come on, Dumbledore!"
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?
"Look, Padfoot, you're becoming more like McGonagall every minute now."
"The horror!"
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
"That didn't come true, thank goodness."
— there will be books written about Harry
"Like this one, for instance?"
— every child in our world will know his name!"
"Not just the kids, Minnie."
"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 you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
"Dumbledore's got a good point, but why Lily's sister? He knows she hates magic."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course.
"Aw, why did Minnie have to back down? She never does that!"
But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"Strange image, there."
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with Harry's life," Sirius said. "Hagrid loves Harry."
"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.
"Unfortunately, she has a point," Remus admitted. "He can't keep a secret to save his life."
"Except how he got expelled," Sirius pointed out. "Even we never found that out."
He does tend to — what was that?" A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
"Hey, it's my motorbike! I forgot about that!"
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.
"Hagrid."
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.
"Feet like dolphins? What the hell?"
In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Harry."
"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.
"Hey, I'm mentioned!" Sirius paused. "I wonder if he still has my bike? I'll have to ask next time I see him."
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."
Sirius smiled softly at the thought. His godson had been one cute baby.
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.
"Damn scar." Sirius hated it just as much as Harry did. It was a reminder of why Harry was famous, and what he and Remus had lost.
Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Unfortunately."
"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.
"Say what? How the hell is that possible?"
"Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
Sirius grumbled under his breath about stupid headmasters and stupid Dursleys.
"Could I — could I say good-bye 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.
"Poor Hagrid."
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"As if that would be a tragedy."
"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,"
"She could be a little bit more caring."
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.
"WHAT? He left Harry on the doorstep?!"
Remus was shaking his head. "He could have at least talked to the Dursleys and explained a few things," he agreed. "What if they didn't take him in?"
"Then there would've been hell to pay," Sirius said firmly.
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 in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well, he's upset."
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.
"Really, Dumbledore? Join the celebrations? You drop The Boy Who Lived on a doorstep like tomorrow's newspaper and all you can say is, 'We may as well go and join the celebrations'?!"
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.
"Too bad I never got it."
G'night Professor McGongall-Professor Dumbledore, sir" Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorbike 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 he nose in reply.
"Nice, Minnie."
Dumbledore 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 Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange
"That's cool. I still want a Deluminator."
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. A breeze ruffled the 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 up in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles,
"What a wonderful way to wake up."
nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley...
Growl. "Dudley had better not hurt my godson."
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!"
Silence fell as Remus set the book down. "Well," he said. "That was interesting."
"Emotional, too," Sirius agreed. "What time is it?"
Checking his watch, Remus replied, "Around lunchtime. Want to eat before we start the next chapter?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "KREACHER!"
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Well, that's it. I'll be working on Chapter 2 this week. Hopefully I'll get it up by Friday or Saturday.
Reviews are welcome.
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