1 Frustration & The Boy Who Lived

A black haired 18 year old boy just finished reading one of the most popular novels of the year with an extreme frustration. He held the hardback book that had just come on sale that week tightly and walked to his bookshelf. Grabbing six more books that had been tied together and stomped out of his room. Less a minute later, the youth was standing in front of a bin outside of his house in the cold morning air. Giving the books he held one last, he angrily threw them away.

"Aaaaarrrrggghhhh!" screamed the youth at the cloudy morning sky.

"Harry, what's wrong?" a woman's voice sounded.

Harry turned around to see his mother standing at their house's doorway, looking worried.

"That bloody woman!" cursed Harry angrily. "How dare she make such an infuriating story?"

"You're talking about J.K. Rawling again?" siged Harry's mother. "I don't understand why you always get angry every time she releases a new book."

"Mum, I can understand why at the beginning the main characters are weak," said Harry, walking back inside his house. "But what frustrates me to no end is how they can be so weak at the end. They should be stronger! Much stronger!"

"Come now, Harry," said Harry's mother, smiling helplessly as she tried switched on the gas cooker. "Have something to eat and you'll feel better. But I still can't believe that you both have the same name; Harry Potter."

"Urgh, don't remind me, Mum," grumbled Harry, slumping down at the kitchen table. "I've always thought Harry, Ron and Hermione would become stronger by the time the Hogwarts battle started. I can't believe they pulled off killing Vold-!"

BOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!

A loud explosion echoed throughout the neighbourhood. There were multiple houses where their glass windows shattered. Slowly, the people in the neighbouring houses walked into the streets. They saw a house that was burning with smoke reaching the cloudy sky.

"That's the Potter house!"

"What happened for their house to blow up?"

"Someone call the fire brigade!"

"Call the police, too!"

There was utter chaos and confusion on the street. No-one knew what had just happened. The kids that had come out were crying. The adults were pale faced with shock. Very soon, the neighbours from the whole street were crowding outside the burning Potter household.

The police and the fire brigade soon arrived and blocked off the surrounding area of the Potter residence. It took the whole morning for the police questioned the neighbours to gather any information. Yet nobody knew what had happened. Soon, the fire had been put out and an investigation was underway.

As most of the house was destroyed by the explosion, finding its cause had been made very difficult. It took almost a week for the news to be released.

"After an explosion had taken place earlier this week on a household in Dulwich, it has been concluded after extensive investigation by the police that the explosion had been caused due to a leakage in gas pipes. The council has been informed of this and it has been ordered that a Gas Safety check is to be carried out with immediate effect to prevent this tragedy from occurring again.

During the explosion earlier this week, it has been confirmed that Marry Potter and her son Harry Potter had been present at the time of the explosion and both have been killed. The mother and son will both be kept at the morgue for a month and we request for any relative to step forward and claim them before they are both buried.

In other news ...."

...

Somewhere far away, a tabby cat was sitting on the wall of a street known as Privet Drive and was intently staring at the door with the number 4 with its intelligent eyes.

The tabby cat had been sitting and observing the residents of number 4 Privet Drive all day and it was now nearing midnight. It hadn't moved from its location even once since its arrival the day before; that is until now.

The cat's tail twitched and eyes narrowed as a man suddenly popped out of nowhere silently. The man was tall and judging from his silver hair and beard, also very old. He was wearing a long purple robe 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.

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. As soon as he found what he was looking for, he realised he was being watched because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still starting at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him.

The old man finally took out what appeared to be a cigarette lighter from his pocket. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. Upon doing so, the nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

The old man flicked the Put-Outer numerous more times and a total of twelve street lamps flickered into darkness.

The old man slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and made his way towards house number four.

"I should have known I'd have the fancy of seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," said the old man, chuckling as he sat next to the cat.

The old manturned 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, Albus?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly," said Dumbledore, shaking his head.

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

"All day? When you could have been celebrating?" said Dumbledore, realising an eyebrow. "I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," said McGonagall impatiently as she sniffed angrily. "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."

McGonagall sighed heavily and her expression turned grave. "Are you truly leaving him with these people?"

"They're the only family he has left, Minerva," replied Dumbledore in a grave tone.

"But they're monsters!" protested McGonagall. "I've been observing them all day! If you leave Harry Potter with them, you will only subject the boy to child abuse! Surely you can see that!"

"I can, which is why you and I will personally see to it that they don't abuse him," said Dumbledore with a flint running in his eyes.

'Dumbledore seems a bit different compared to before,' thought McGonagall as she eyed the old man intently, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Suddenly, a low rumbling sound broke the silence around them and it slowly grew louder and louder. As Dumbledore and McGonagall looked around for any sign of a headlight, the rumbling sounds swelled into a road as a massive motorbike landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorbike was considered huge, it was nothing compared to the man riding it. He was almost twice as tall as any normal man and almost five times as wide. Long tangles of bushy black hair and beard covered most of his face. He had hands that were the size of a small umbrella and his feet in their leather booths were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms, he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid, no problem, was there?" asked Dumbledore, sounding relieved.

"No, Sir, I got him out alright before the Muggles started showing up," replied the giant.

Dumbledore and 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.

"Hagrid, could you stand guard out here while Professor McGonagall and I step inside for a chat with young Harry's aunt and uncle?" asked Dumbledore looking at the giant of a man.

"Sure thing, Professor," replied Hagrid. "You can count on me."

"Good, Minerva, if you could kindly wake Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, please," said Dumbledore, turning to face the door numbered four.

"Absolutely, Albus," replied McGonagall, knocking softly at the Dursley's door.

"Will that even wake them up, Professor?" asked Hagrid nervously. He quickly lowered his head as McGonagall shot him an icy glare.

McGonagall knocked at the door a few more times before it got answered by an angry, beefy man who can easily be mistaken as an overgrown pig. "Who in -!"

"Good evening, Mr. Dursley," said McGonagall with a sweet smile. "I hope you're going to invite us in."

Cold sweat immediately ran down Vernon Dursley's spine as the three individual standing in front of his doorstep registered in his mind.

"O-of course," said Vernon nervously, gulping a mouthful of saliva. "Come on in. Would you like some tea?"

"I think whiskey would be a more ideal choice given our present circumstance," said Dumbledore as he and McGonagall followed Vernon inside his house. "Also, it would be best if your wife could join us."

"O-of course, I will wake her up immediately," said Vernon nervously before shuffling away.

Dumbledore, with baby Harry in his arms, and McGonagall took their seats on the sofa of Vernon's living room and waited patiently for the chubby man to return with his wife. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long as Vernon and Petunia entered the living room and stared at them with gaping mouths.

"The whiskey, Mr. Dursley?" said Dumbledore, clearing his throat.

"Y-yes, of course," said Vernon, leaving the sitting room.

"It's quite rude to stare at your guests in your own house like that, Mrs. Dursley," said McGonagall. "Why not take a seat so we could talk about your nephew, Harry Potter, once your husband returns?"

"He's with you?" asked Petunia nervously, eyeing the baby wrapped in blankets as she took her place opposite Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"You are naturally not aware of the happenings of the Wizarding Community," said Dumbledore, noticing Petunia flinch at the mention of wizards. "Ah, Mr. Dursley, that looks like fine whiskey you are holding."

"Yes, it's from the 1970s I managed to find at a bargain so it's quite mature," replied Vernon proudly.

"Excellent, excellent, now that you're here as well, I can finally get to the reason for my visit," said Dumbledore, smiling broadly. "Just a few hours ago your sister and her husband, James and Lily Potter were killed in cold blood leaving their orphaned child with no living relations other than yourself, Petunia."

Upon hearing this abrupt news, Petunia gasped as she covered her mouth with trembling hands while Vernon almost dropped the whiskey bottle.

"H-how ...?" asked Petunia weakly.

"A very powerful Dark Wizard was looking for them and managed to find them," said Dumbledore gravely. "The said Dark Wizard attempted to kill young Harry as well, but his curse backfired and was unable to kill him. As his next of kin, we brought young Harry here with the intention of being raised by you. He will also be more safe with family - even if it's as detached from the Wizarding World as you are."

"You're imposing on us, Sir," said Vernon, sounding braver than he felt. "You have not even asked our opinion of whether we will look after the boy or not!'

"I'm not here to ask for permission, Mr. Dursley," said Dumbledore, narrowing his eyes. "I'm here to tell you to look after your wife's orphaned nephew."