Altering The Future: Reading Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone

Hello Everyone.

Before you get to reading the first chapter of my fic, here's a little disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I write HP fanfiction for fun and entertainment. I do not make money off of this. I am NOT JK Rowling, although I wish I was. I do not have any money, so please do not sue me.

And let's enjoy the story shall we?

Here we go:

Chapter 1:

The Beginning:

The setting was simple. Someone from the future wanted a certain set of people to read the books of a certain person and his friends. So this futuristic person did what any person would do to make someone read a book. They trapped them in a room...


"What do you mean the door won't open?"

"This blasted door won't open! Even Alohamora won't work!"

"I refuse to be stuck in this room with him!"

"You think I want to be in the same room as you, Weasel?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy! Go shove your head down a toilet!"

"Five points from Gryffindor!"

"Hah!"

"Five points from Slytherin!"

"Minerva!"

"Watch it, Severus!"

"This is ridiculous!"

Albus Dumbledore surveyed the scene with bemused satisfaction. The staff room was somehow locked and the people in here wanted to get out. Not surprising really, considering the group. Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley and Fred and George Weasley. Those two boys had already left, but had come to see their brother Ron, who was in his sixth year now. Quite a motley group of people really.

"Albus!" Minerva turned to him in a flash. "Is this your doing?"

"No," he said calmly. "I believe it's the doing of whoever is doing that." He pointed upward towards the ceiling.

Somehow, this got the Weasley children and Draco Malfoy to stop arguing as they all looked up to see some sort of… hole in the ceiling. And not just any hole. It was blue and it was swirling around. Then, all of a sudden, a flash of lightning streaked from the hole to the table where Albus was sitting at and then disappeared, leaving not a scorch mark, but a book.

"It's a time traveling spell of sorts," he continued calmly. "Someone from the future sent us something. Whoever sent us that book is making it impossible for us to get out."

"Cool!" Both Weasley twins chorused at the same time. "What kind of book?" Their voices continued in sync.

Albus smiled, "See for yourself." He stared at the others, his blue eyes twinkling. "Well, Mr Malfoy, Severus, Minerva, we might as well join Mr Fred and George Weasley." He glanced at Ron. "You too Mr Weasley."

"What about Harry?" The boy snapped. "He's going to be wondering where I am!"

"Saint Potter," Draco muttered as he sat down in a chair. "Can't stay away from him for more than a minute, can you Weasel?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"That is enough, the both of you," Minerva snapped as she took her seat. Severus sneered at all of them before sitting down himself.

"So why is that blasted book here?" He snarled.

"It's about Harry!" One of the twins chorused.

"Why am I not surprised?" Severus muttered.

"There's a note! Read it George."

"All right, hold on."

Mr George Weasley cleared his throat.

"That's it!" Severus snarled. "Twenty points from Gryff-"

"Severus, you can't take points from those who are no longer taking classes in this school," Albus interceded calmly. "What is the title of the book?"

Fred and George looked at the book. "Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone!" They chorused.
"Who shall read first? Ron?"

Ron's face went red. "No, thanks."

"Malfoy?"

"I'm not bloody well touching that thing."

"Professor Snape?"

"NO."

"McGonagall?"

"Not at the moment now, thank you boys."

All eyes landed on Albus, "No, boys, I think you should have the pleasure of reading first."

"Cool!"

"Fred?"

"Yes, George?"

"Would you like the first shot?"

"Why thank you Fred. Are you sure you don't want to go first?"

"Well..."

"GET ON WITH IT!" Snape snarled.

George and Fred glanced at each, identical grins cracking. One of them opened the book. "Let's see... okay. Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived."

Severus (snarling): More like the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die.

Albus (calmly): I'll pretend I didn't hear that.

Severus: You do that.

Minerva gets up and starts bustling around the Staff Room. She places drinks in front of everyone and then sits down again.

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

Ron: Stupid muggles!

Fred: Quite right Ron.

Draco (sneering): All muggles are stupid.

George: These ones are the worst though.

They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with that nonsense.

Minerva: Nonsense? They think what we do is nonsense? Well, I never!

Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck,

Severus (drawling): She sounds like an attractive woman.

Draco chuckles.

which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

Fred and George snort in disbelief.

Ron just laughs.

Fred (sarcasm evident): Yes, such a fine boy.

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.

Severus: I don't blame them.

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

Minerva (scowling): That is not a word! Who is this writer that Mr Potter told his life story too?

George (looking at the cover): A J.K. Rowling.

Draco: I've heard of the Rowlings! They're an old wizarding family. Somewhere in Wales, I think.

Ron: Thank you Malfoy for that completely useless bit of information. Now shut it.

as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.

Severus: Once again, I can't blame them.

Albus: Severus...

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

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his highchair.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

All: Muggles.

Fred: Never notice anything.

George: Bless them.

At half-past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

Severus: This boy sounds spoiled.

All three Weasleys: He is.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

Fred: Little?

George: Did I just hear the word little?

Ron: That tub of lard is not little!

Fred/George: Way to go Ronniekins!

Ron: DON'T CALL ME RONNIEKINS!

For a second, Mr. Dursley didn’t realize what he had seen-then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in the mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive-no, looking at the sign; cats couldn’t read maps or signs.

Minerva smiles.

Severus snorts.

Draco just looks confused.

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.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn’t bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people!

Severus: And what is so wrong with what we wear?

Fred: Well I don't know about you, but we wear perfectly fine robes and cloaks.

Severus: What about me?

Minerva: You look like a bat Severus.

Severus: What's your point?

Minerva: That was my point.

He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Durlsey 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!

Severus: This muggle needs help.

Draco: Maybe the Avada Kedavra could help him?

Minerva: MR MALFOY!

But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt-these people were obviously collecting for something…yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Draco: What are drills?

Fred/George: Muggles use them to make holes in wood.

Draco: Really? Why?

Minerva: To help them build things.

Ron: Weird.

Draco: What do you expect? It's a muggle.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn’t see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, thought people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.

Draco: Stupid muggles.

Ron: Well I agree that these one's are.

(Total Complete Silence.....)

Fred/George: Did Ronniekins just AGREE with Malfoy?

Ron: DON'T CALL ME RONNIEKINS!

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.

Severus: He likes shouting doesn’t he? Doesn't he know he can get a lot more accomplished with a whisper?

Minerva (sniffing): Not everyone can be intimidating when they whisper, Severus.

Severus: Well, yes, I suppose it's an art that not many can do.

Both the Weasley twins snort with laughter, while Ron pretends to gag.

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

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. This lot 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 –"

Severus (scowling): Potter.

Mr. Dursley stopped dead.

Draco: Too bad it didn't actually happen.

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 phone number before he thought better of it.

He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking...

Severus: Thinking? This man can think?

no, he was being stupid.


Fred: No surprise there, really.

Draco: Hey, as long as he's admitting it.

Potter wasn't such an unusual name.

Minerva: Actually...

Severus: Please. Do not tell me there are more Potters. I couldn't take it.

Minerva: There are.

Severus (scowling) I can't escape the Bloody Potters anywhere can I?

Ron: Nope.

Severus: Five points from Gryffindor.

Minerva: Severus!

Severus: What?

Minerva: Albus!

Albus (calmly) Keep reading please.

Minerva: What I meant to say that Potter was a common last name, around Muggles as well!

Severus: It's still bad.

Draco snorts.

Fred: Reaching. He's reaching.

George: It's called desperation.

There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that...but all the same, those people in cloaks...

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 outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. 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 passers-by stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

Everyone blinks.

Minerva (bellowing): Did... what on earth was that wizard thinking! Of all the idiotic...

Draco: Probably was in Hufflepuff.

Minerva: Mr Malfoy!

Draco: What?! I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking!

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

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.

Draco (sneering): That would be you, you big fat lump and huge waste of existence.

He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

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 round its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

Minerva: Shoo? He thinks saying Shoo is going to make me go away?

Severus: Well he could always use a broom.

Was this normal cat behavior, Mr. Dursley wondered.

Ron: Oh no, it's normal.

George: It's normal for a cat to read maps and just stay in one spot all day long. Yes, it's really normal.

Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

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

Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in all directions since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars!

Ron: Idiots. All of them are idiots.

Draco: These are Mmggles you're talking about Weasel. All of them are idiots.

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.

George: Ohhhh, if only it was true...

Severus: Stop stalling and continue reading!

Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Severus: Well this muggle doesn't seem too much of an idiot. He's putting things together.

Ron: Professor... you're talking about Vernon Dursley.

Severus: Your point?

Ron just shakes his head.

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought ... maybe ... it was something to do with ... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips.

Minerva: I really don't think that's possible.

Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter". He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son - he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

Ron: NOBODY ASKED YOU!

Fred/George: YOU GITS!

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

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought 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…

Minerva (softly) Oh how wrong you are Mr Dursley. How very wrong.

How very wrong he was.

Minerva: See? I told you.

Severus: Minerva, it's not polite to gloat.

Minerva: Shut it, Severus. You gloated every year when you won the House Cup. It's my turn to gloat.

Severus: You've had your turn to gloat ever since Bloody Potter came to Hogwarts!

Minerva: That's right, I did! And I'm going to gloat some more! So there!

All four students looked at the Professors in awe as they argued. They've never seen these two like this before... acting like... well, like them.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting off into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no signs of sleepiness. It was sitting 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 in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

Albus: Long night, was it Minerva?

Minerva: You won't believe how long. My back still aches when I think about that night, Albus.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen in 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 which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus (smiling and in a soft voice): I'm glad Ms Rowling has mentioned me

Ron: Well we can't very well have a book about Harry in it without you can we Professor?

Draco: Stop sucking up Weasel!

Ron: I'm not sucking up! I'm being polite, which you have no idea how to be, Mr Ferret Malfoy!

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived on a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. 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."

Ron: What should you have known?

Draco: Apparently that the cat would be there. Pay attention, Weasel.

Ron: I AM! AND QUIT CALLING ME WEASEL, FERRET!

Severus: Will you all bloody well shut up so we can get on with the story?

Ron/Draco: NO!

He had 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.

Fred: Cool.

George: Awesome, Professor.

Fred: I WANT ONE!

Albus blushes.

He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer,

Ron: Put-Outer? Not very original is it?

Fred: Well? What else should it be called?

Ron (thinking):...Well I don't know! But anything but that! It sounds so... boring.

until the only lights left in 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 back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards 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."

Fred: HAH! I KNEW IT WAS YOU!

George: No normal cat just reads maps!

Fred: But uh George, none of us are normal... if you go by the Dursley's definition.

George: True...

Severus: Stop rambling! Finish the chapter!

Albus: Let's make Severus happy. Let's continue on with the book.

Fred: Aww... do we have to?

George: We were just getting warmed up!

Ron: And we were having so much fun irritating him.

Severus: Fun, were you? Well now I know who to test my newest poisons on.

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.

Fred: BOOO! GREEN! BOOO! DOWN WITH SLYTHERIN!

Severus: Emerald? I always knew you liked the House of Slytherin, Minerva.

George: DOWN WITH SLYTHERIN! DOWN WITH SLYTHERIN!

Draco: Oi, you two are real mature.

Minerva: Green looks good on me. I wear it because of that. Not because of your bloody house, Severus.

Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

Ron snorts.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

Severus: What is with all the sniffs?

Minerva: Severus, if I want to sniff, I'll sniff.

Severus: My my, are we a little touchy?

Minerva: Severus...

"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 Dursley’s dark living room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they’re not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent-I’ll be that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

Ron: Who's Dedalus Diggle?"

Draco: Some one who apparently decided to make shooting stars go down in Kent.

Ron: I wasn't asking YOU!

Draco: But I still answered.

Ron: Shut it Malfoy.

Draco (sneering): Poor Ronniekins.

Ron: DON'T CALL ME RONNIEKINS!

Draco: Hufflepuff.

Ron: Malfoy.

Draco: What? It's true. Hufflepuffs have no sense.

Minerva: Ten points from Slytherin.

Fred/George: Hah!

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

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

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about as all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

Fred: Well, rather unfortunately, he comes back in Harry's fourth year.

Ron: Can we please not talk about that?

George: Okay. What shall we talk about then?

Ron: How about the book?

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

Everyone stares at Albus.

Albus just smiles.

Draco just rolls his eyes.

Fred: Only you would ask if someone would want a lemon drop after someone asks that type of question.

George: We always knew he was mad.

Fred: But a cool type of mad.

Albus just chuckles.

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

Fred just shakes his head.

George: You're just awesome.

Fred: Really. Brilliant. Nuts, but brilliant.

Draco: Quit with all the arse kissing and finish reading.

Ron: Getting a bit jealous there Malfoy?

Draco: I think NOT.

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"

Fred (turning to Minerva): Say it with me Professor. Voldemort. Come on.

Minerva: Mr Weasley, cease that this instant!

George: Aww, come on.

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this
"You-Know-Who" nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemons drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who".

Fred: Really? You mean there were others with the name You-Know-Who?

George: Cool. How many others were there?

Severus What are you two babbling about?

Fred: Well if it was confusing, there had to be a few others as well.

George: Yeah! Who else is named You-Know-Who? Malfoy?

Ron: No. That would be The-Ferret-Of-Slytherin.

Draco: SHUT UP!

Fred/George: Good one brother!

"I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

Ron: Well that's you Headmaster.

Fred: We all know you aren't always there.

Minerva: MR WEASLEY!

Albus laughs.

"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."

"Only because you’re too-well-noble to use them."

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

All three Weasley's burst out laughing, while Minerva blushes, Severus scowls and Draco looks like he's going to be sick.

Severus: That was in image we could have done well without.

Draco: My mind is fragile. I don't think I can take much more of this.

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

Ron: Well, let's see.

Fred: Could it be that he got his arse kicked by a baby and he couldn't bear to show himself to his Death Eaters?

George: Any mad, wannabe evil dictator would be afraid to do that.

Severus' scowl drops and his face pales.

Ron: This part sucks.

"He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are-are-that they're–dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know…I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' 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."

Fred: Well despite how he went away...

George: Rather depressing in the manner...

Fred: We still were quite happy. Sucks though.

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."

Fred: I hate not knowing.

George: Not knowing sucks.

Fred: Spot on George.

Draco: Can you two put a lid on it?

Fred/George: No.

Severus: Why, for the sake of Salazar, can you not?

Fred/George: Because one of us is reading and the other just has to make remarks.

Ron: Simple enough?

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles.

George: Awww...

Fred: Whoa! You can cry! I didn't think it was possible!

Ron: Harry and I found out that she can.

Minerva: I am human.

George: Sometimes that escapes us. You're just so... so...

Fred: Scary.

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.

Fred: Cool.

George: I want one.

Ron: You both want a Put Outer, now this?

Fred/George: YES!

Draco: You two are too easily amused.

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."

Ron scowls at Albus.

Albus: Yes, Mr Weasley?

Ron: They don't treat him like family!

Albus: I'm aware of that. But he needed to stay there.

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumpingto her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You c1uldn'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.

All Weasleys: SPOILT BRAT!

Ron: TUB OF LARD!

Draco: I repeat, he's a Muggle. What do you expect?

"Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly.

Ron: Really? Was it now?

"His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

Fred: A letter?

George: Uh, not the best way to go I think.

Ron snorts. For the first time Albus looks sad.

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him!

Ron scowls. So do Fred and George.

He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry.

Severus (drawling): Like this one perhaps?

Draco: Bloody Golden Boy Potter.

Minerva (snapping): Five points from Slytherin.

- every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half- moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head.

Ron: Well at least he didn't become like Malfoy!

Fred/George: That's the one good thing about that!

"Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind,

Severus: I didn't think you had it in you Minerva.

Minerva: Severus.

Severus: Really. I didn't know it was possible for you to change your mind.

Minerva: Would you like to me to use your bed as a litter box?

swallowed and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

Fred: Hagrid?

George: Why?

Draco: Who cares?

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

George: Well that clears it.

Fred: I quite agree George.

George: Do you now? Well that's good. We must always agree.

Fred: Weasley Twin Code.

Ron: You two have a code?

Fred/George: Yes.

Severus: Will you two shut it and get on with the story.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

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.

Ron: Brilliant!

Fred: I want one!

George: So do I!

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild –long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

Fred: Our first look at Harry.

George: About time! Since the book is about him of course.

Draco rolls his eyes.

"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 me. I've got him, sir."

Fred: Sirius? Cool.

Snape: It would figure Black would have had something like that.

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' round. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -? " whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes", said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

Ron: Which is something that will be a great cause of annoyance in the future.

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

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

"Could I - could I say goodbye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over
Harry and gave what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss.

Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

Fred: That's right Hagrid. Let us know how you feel.

Draco: I prefer not.

George: Who cares what you prefer,Ferret Face?

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s- sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it.
"But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles –"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,"

Fred/George: Oh, that's comforting.

Ron: Yeah, Professor.

Minerva huffs.

Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door.

He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

Fred: Not good.

George: Nope.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.

Snape: It didn't do him any good though.

Ron: Professor... are you smiling?

Severus' smile fades instantly.

"G'night, Professor McGonagall - 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.

George: Hey, don't lose that bike!

Fred: YEAH!

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her.

Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

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 in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... he couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"

Severus: The Bloody Boy Who Lived.

Draco: That was a painful chapter. Too much about Muggles.

George: Anyone wants to read the next chapter?

Draco/Severus: No.

Fred: Fine then, I'll do it. The book, George?

George: Certainly Fred.

Severus: Someone save me from this forced hell.