Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The evening was calm...and Lily Potter along with James Potter were relaxing together with one-year old Harry Potter, zipping around on his tiny toy broomstick and laughing.
What happened next was so unexpected.
A loud BOOM startled them. Little Harry he fell off his broomstick, landing on his bottom.
Lily went over to check on him as Harry began to cry loudly.
James went over to the window. His eyes widened at what he saw.
"Death Eaters," he said in disbelief. The Death Eaters were bombing the houses and some were headed towards them.
"Lily!" James called. "Go upstairs with Harry and hide!"
Lily's eyes looked alarmed as she nodded.
James quickly went over to the wall, where his sword hung. Grabbing the hilt, he unsheathed it.
He ran outside to face the Death Eaters.
Upstairs, Lily was watching everything. James had ran outside. The Death Eaters began to slash their enchanted swords at James, but he deflected them all with his sword. Suddenly, a Death Eater sneaked past James and ran into the house. He was the one who had been leading the others. The commander. In other words, probably...Voldemort.
Lily looked around desperately for a hiding place. Under the bed? No. Too easy for him to find. In the tiny room behind the bookshelf? No. She couldn't fit anymore. But Harry could...
As the footsteps grew louder, Lily clutched Harry to her chest and pulled out the book that led to the room. She pushed Harry in, then closed the hidden door.
The footsteps stopped. She looked behind her, and there he was. Voldemort. She had guessed right.
"Well, well, well," he said, smirking, "Look who we have here."
Lily ignored his comment.
He pulled out his weapon, an enchanted rifle, and pointed it directly at her heart. "Who else is here? Perhaps a child? We heard crying."
Her eyes widened in terror, but she managed to say, "You must have gotten the wrong house. We have no child here."
He arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
She nodded quickly.
He did not drop his arm. Instead, his fist clenched around the handle harder. "Liar."
Then he shot her. Right in the chest.
The last thing Lily heard before her death was a bomb. Around her, everything went up in flames.
Her vision went black.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood next to the remains of the house where Lily and James had lived in.
Hagrid wiped a tear from his eye. "Harry was so little. Only one!"
Dumbledore stepped into the ashes of the house. A glowing sword laid there, unscathed.
"The Cursed Sword..." he muttered. "I warned James not to do it..."
Hagrid stepped in and started walking towards a box that was still standing, also unscathed. He opened the little door, and found Harry, tears on his face, sucking his thumb, asleep.
Hagrid lifted the little body out. He cried even harder. Harry's body was there, but he was dead.
"Sir," Hagrid said quietly, between sniffles.
Dumbledore lifted up his head and looked at Hagrid. His gaze settled on Harry.
Dumbledore walked over and wriggled his hand underneath Harry's sheets. His hand came to a stop on the baby's chest.
There was a heartbeat.
Slowly, Dumbledore stood up. "Amazing," he said quietly. "No one, not even James, could have survived the bomb."
He took a closer look at the cabinet. It looked ordinary, but Dumbledore was sure it was not. Could this cabinet be...
"Do yeh think this is the Enchanted Cabinet?" Hagrid asked.
Dumbledore nodded. "It is very possible that it could be."
He tapped it with his finger. The cabinet shrunk into the size of a small pocketbook and Dumbledore tucked it into his robes.
Then he looked at Harry. Without parents, how would he survive?
The idea struck him. Lily had a mortal sister named Petunia.
Prodocing a piece of parchment and a quill out of thin air, Dumbledore started to write.
Harry was found on the porch step of the Dursleys' the morning after the bombing of his house. Petunia screamed-she had not been expecting a child.
Vernon rushed over to see what was the matter. When he saw the child, he roared, "WHAT IS THIS? SOME KIND OF TRICK?"
It was then Petunia noticed the scroll sticking out. She pulled it out and unrolled it.
Dear Mrs Petunia Dursley,
Here on your doorstep you find a child. He is your nephew, your sister's son. Recently, your sister was killed in the bombing, and so was her husband. Their son, Harry Potter, is the only survivor. I ask you to please take him in and treat him like your own son. He has no one now. Only you.
Petunia's hand shook. Lily...
Vernon snatched the letter from her hands and scanned over it.
"Never!" he yelled, crumpling the note. "We are not taking him in!"
"We...we must, Vernon," Petunia said.
"What?" Vernon rounded on her.
"If...if the neighbors hear about this, we will look bad," Petunia said. "We don't want to look bad, do we, Vernon?"
He hesitated. "I s'pose you have a point," he grumbled. He stomped back into the house.
Petunia hoisted up Harry, bringing him into the house.
"BUT HE WILL HAVE TO STAY IN THE CUPBOARD! I DON'T WANT ANY REMINDER OF HER HERE!" Vernon roared from somewhere in the house.
Petunia flinched and looked at Harry. Shaking her head, she stuffed him into the cupboard. She couldn't risk making Vernon angry.
Harry started to cry. Petunia figured he must be hungry, so she got some milk and fed it to him.
He started to gulp. It was then she noticed that his eyes...were the same as Lily's.
She mentally choked back tears. She didn't show her real feelings for her sister. That was a rule. No mentioning her sister.
She was going to have a real son soon, though. She couldn't possibly take care of both of them, could she? She placed her hand on her belly, which was starting to swell.
Then she remembered that he must be like Lily. Going to that place at age eleven.
Ten more years. Ten more she will have to deal with Harry Potter.