The Prisoner of Azkaban's Prisoner of Azkaban: A MWPP MST

Chapter One - Owl Post, Part One

"I'm bored."

Sirius looked around hopefully, but the other occupants of the room did not seem particularly impressed by this news. It was the end of a hot August day - one of the hottest of the summer - and neither Remus, nor James, could be bothered to entertain their friend right now. They were all gathered in Sirius' flat, as they were so often on these long summer evenings.

Since leaving school in June, all of them had had to go out into the real world and find jobs, take on responsibility etc...but night after night they ended up back together, sharing a bottle of wine and talking long into the night. Every now and then, Lily would join them, but for the most part it was the four old roommates, reliving and recapturing the feeling of being back in the Gryffindor dormitory. They all knew it couldn't last, but during this long, idyllic summer, they were putting off the end as long as they could.

On this particular evening, there were no indications that events would proceed any differently than the dozens of evenings beforehand. Peter was absent, which was slightly unusual, but apart from that the routine was much the same. They had just reached the point where Sirius announced he was bored, and everyone else ignored him. He tried again.

"I said, I'm bored."

"We heard you," said James lazily.

"Then why did no one say anything?"

"Because there's very little we can do about your boredom, Padfoot," said Remus.

"Plus, I just couldn't be naffed," added James.

"Well, I think you two are just...what was that? Did I hear the doorbell?" It had indeed been the doorbell, and there was a brief argument over whose responsibility it was to answer the door. Sirius lost on the basis that it was his door. He left the room with bad grace, and then reappeared a moment later with a familiar figure behind him. "It's your better half, James."

"Evening all!" said Lily Evans cheerfully, kissing her fiancé briefly as he stood up to greet her, and settling herself neatly on the sofa. "Where's Peter?"

Sirius shrugged. "Not here."

"Well, I noticed that." She gratefully accepted the glass James gave her. "Are you expecting him at any point this evening? Because it kind of makes it easier if he's not here."

"Why?" asked several voices.

"Because I got this parcel in the post this morning - Muggle post, at my Mum and Dad's house," she added, "and it had a note inside, and, well, see for yourself." She took a smallish package and a piece of paper out of her bag and handed the latter to James who read it out loud.

"'To be opened in the presence of Lily Evans, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, but NOT Peter Pettigrew'," he read. "It's signed 'from a friend', and that's all it says."

"Weird," said Sirius, getting up to look at it.

"Definitely peculiar," agreed Remus. "'Opened and read'? Is it some kind of book?"

"That's what I assumed," said Lily. "It's the right size and shape. The question is, should we open it?"

They all looked a bit dubious. "It could be a trap," Remus pointed out, and the others nodded.

"Which is why I tested it thoroughly, for everything I could think of, and - here's the strange thing - there doesn't appear to be anything magical about it at all." The others stared at her.

"Nothing at all? How is that possible? Even the most ordinary books have anti-theft charms on them," said James, puzzled.

"Unless it's a Muggle book."

"Why would anyone send us a Muggle book?"

"Why don't we open it and find out?" said Sirius impatiently. "If there's no spells on it, it can't be dangerous." They all looked at each other; then James picked up the package and carefully unwrapped it. The four of them crowded round to look at the contents.

It appeared to be a fairly ordinary looking paperback book, with a purple cover. The front proclaimed 'Harry Potter' in large gold letters, while slightly smaller green letters spelled out 'and the Prisoner of Azkaban'. The author appeared to be someone called 'J.K. Rowling', the book was apparently 'Winner of the 1999 Whitbread Children's book of the Year', and there was a picture of two children riding what looked like a Hippogriff against a full moon. There was a silence as they all looked at the book; then Sirius spoke thoughtfully.

"'Harry Potter'. Think there's some connection, James?"

"I doubt it. Potter's a pretty common name."

"I agree," said Lily. "It looks like an ordinary Muggle children's book to me."

"It can't be," said Remus, who was frowning. "It talks about Azkaban. No Muggles have heard of Azkaban. And how can it have won a 1999 award when it's only 1978 now?" He picked the book up and turned it over to read the back.

"Harry Potter," he read out loud, "along with his best friends, Ron and Hermione, is about to start his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry can't wait to get back to school after the summer holidays. (Who wouldn't if they lived with the horrible Dursleys?) But when Harry gets to Hogwarts, the atmosphere is tense. There's an escaped mass murderer on the loose, and the sinister prison guards of Azkaban have been called in to guard the school..."

"Well, there you go, then," said Sirius. "It has to be written by a wizard, or it wouldn't mention Hogwarts and everything."

"No," said Lily, who was looking shaken. "Look at the reviews - The Daily Mail, The Evening Standard, The Mirror - they're all Muggle newspapers." They all looked, and sure enough she was right. "And I'll tell you what else," she added. "Does the name 'Dursley' sound familiar, James? It should. It's my sister's married name." There was a silence as they all took in these words.

"So what are you saying, Lily? That this book is...is..."

"Harry is my father's name," she said. "Isn't that a likely name for James and me to name our son?" There was another pause. Sirius and Remus looked uneasily at each other. James just looked shell shocked.

"But Lily," he eventually said, "it must just be a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences. I think this book's from the future."

"From the future?" snorted Sirius in disbelief. "Lily, no offence, love, but you're cracked. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Well, that's unlikely," said Remus, but he looked just as disbelieving. "I hate to admit it, Lily, but Sirius has a point. How could it be from the future? Even if it was, why would a Muggle be writing about wizards? Real wizards?"

"And why would they send it to us?" James added. "Really, Lily, I think the most likely explanation is that someone's playing a joke on us."

"Well," said Lily, "there's one way to find out, isn't there?" She picked up the book and opened it.

"What are you going to do?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to read it, of course."

The three men exchanged glances. "Well," said Sirius, "could you at least read it out loud?"

"No problem." She settled herself more comfortably on the sofa and began to read.

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.

Sirius: Let me guess...he had pink hair.

Remus: Three arms.

James: A love of broccoli and a hatred of chocolate.

Sirius: Okay, it said 'highly unusual', not 'completely insane'.

Lily: Are you lot going to interrupt me all the way through?

Everyone else: Yep!

For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year.

Sirius: Well, that's not unusual. I always dreaded the summer holidays.

James: Yes, but your family's...your family.

Lily: Personally, I don't blame him if he lives with my sister and her husband. Poor kid.

James: For God's sake, Lily, will you give it up? You're ignoring something rather fundamental here: if this 'Harry' was our son, and something had happened to us, why on earth would he end up with your relatives? Why wouldn't we give custody to our parents, or Sirius, or Remus, or Peter, or, hell, anyone else?

Lily: Maybe something really bad happened, and we're all dead apart from Petunia.

James: Well, that's a cheerful thought.

Lily: If you'd just let me read, maybe you'll find out, hmm?

For another, he really wanted to do his homework,

Sirius: Okay, forget unusual, this kid's just plain weird.

James: Hey, that's could be my son you're talking about! Why are you all looking at me like that? I know he isn't, but he could be.

Remus: Prongs, please don't encourage her.

Lily: Hey! Will you just let me read, please?

but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night.

Remus: He has to do his homework in secret?

Sirius: It's an odd phrase, if you think about it.

James: What is?

Sirius: 'The dead of night'. What's dead about it?

James: You have too many thoughts.

And he also happened to be a wizard.

Sirius: Well, that's not unusual either.

Remus: It is if you're a Muggle.

Sirius: But he isn't a Muggle, he's a wizard, and among wizards, being a wizard isn't unusual.

James: Sirius? Shut up.

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his front in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a torch in one hand

Sirius: A torch? Wouldn't it set fire to the blankets?

Lily: It's a Muggle thing, Sirius, it uses electricity to provide light. Didn't you take Muggle Studies?

Sirius: It depends what you mean by 'take'. If you mean was it on my timetable, the answer would be yes, if you mean did I pay attention in the lessons and do homework occasionally, the answer would be no.

Lily: Well, that explains a lot.

and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow.

Lily: For a book that's not real, or is 'just a coincidence', it seems to know quite a lot.

James: I'm just impressed the kid's awake, reading that thing.

Sirius: Don't be harsh James, it made a great pillow in Binns' classes. Hey, if this is the future, I wonder if they still have Binns?

Lily: Aren't any of you willing to accept the possibility that this is real?

Remus: Sorry, Lily, but it is very unlikely. If there was some more evidence...

Lily: Let me keep reading, and you'll see.

Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill

Sirius: Poser.

Remus: Oh, come on, it could be worse. Wasn't there someone at school who used to use a peacock feather quill? Who was that?

James: Gilderoy Lockhart.

Remus: That's right! I wonder what happened to him?

Sirius: Hopefully something painful, involving some kind of slow torture.

Lily: Who are we talking about?

James: He was a couple of years ahead of us. Complete git, but some idiot made him a prefect, and he used to think he could tell us what to do.

Lily: Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten about him. He was the really good looking one, right?

James: I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that...

down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, 'Witch-Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless - discuss'.

Sirius: I don't believe it.

James: Nor do I.

Remus: That's one of Binns' essay titles. Either this is for real, or someone really did their research.

Sirius: It can't be real.

Lily: I can't believe he's still using the same essay titles. I wonder if the older students still sell their old essays to the first years?

James: Probably. They're probably the same essays. And stop looking so smug, this doesn't prove anything.

The quill paused at the top of a likely-looking paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up his nose,

Sirius: They really did their research, he even has Potter glasses!

moved his torch closer to the book and read:

James: Please don't read it. I got enough of that thing when I was at school.

Lily: All right, I'll skip ahead a bit.

Harry put his quill between his teeth

Remus: Not a good idea. Great way to get an ink-stained tongue.

Sirius: Are you speaking from experience there?

Remus: I'm saying nothing.

and reached underneath his pillow for his ink bottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it and began to write,

James: Okay, does the author have to give us every single tiny little detail? We know how to write! Get to the good stuff!

pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the

Remus: Outhouse.

Sirius: Circus.

James: Ballet.

bathroom,

Sirius: Boring.

he'd probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

Sirius and James: What?!

Lily: Okay, I know there's no love lost between us, but not even my sister would do that...would she?

James: She'd better not.

Sirius: It's a good thing this isn't real, because if it was, and I'm sorry to tell you this Lily, I would find your sister and I would kill her.

The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive,

Lily: That's where my sister and her husband live.

James: Are you sure?

Lily: Dead sure. I sent her a birthday card only last month. Never heard anything in reply, I'm sorry to say.

Remus: Maybe Lily isn't entirely wrong...

Lily: Thank you, Remus. At least someone's on my side.

James: I'm on your side! I just think you're probably wrong.

Lily: Probably? Am I making progress?

James: We'll see. Keep reading.

was the reason that Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and their son, Dudley, were Harry's only living relatives.

Lily: It is my sister. I don't believe it.

James: 'Only living relatives'? That means your parents, and my parents...what happened? Does the book say?

Sirius: You don't believe it, do you, Prongs?

James: Well, I hate to say it, but it is looking more and more likely.

Lily: Three against one, now, Sirius. Sure you won't change your mind?

They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude to magic. Harry's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursley roof.

James: Never mentioned? Does that mean he doesn't know anything about us?

Sirius: James, are you not even slightly concerned about the fact that you appear to be dead? Not that I think this is real.

James: I'm more concerned about what these horrible people are doing to my son. Anyway, chances are that you two are dead too, seeing as he's not living with either of you.

Remus: We don't know that, there could be another reason why he has to live with them. And the Ministry would never let me take care of him anyway. Werewolf, remember?

James: Good point. But Sirius isn't a werewolf.

Remus: No, he's just completely irresponsible.

Sirius: Hey! I'm sitting right here!

For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him.

Remus: Sirius, stop growling like that.

Sirius: Well, really. 'Squash the magic out of him', indeed! Lily, please tell me that they die horribly in the next page or two.

Lily: Spoken like a true believer, Sirius.

Sirius: No, I'm just thinking of how I'd feel...hypothetically...if it were your son. Which it's not.

To their fury, they had been unsuccessful,

James: Hah! Serves them right.

and now lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Remus: Well, that's just stupid. How could anyone find out?

Sirius: Even if they did, a simple 'Obliviate' and no more problem.

Lily: They're Muggles, Sirius.

Sirius: Oh, yeah.

The most the Dursleys could do these days was to lock away Harry's spellbooks, wand, cauldron and broomstick at the start of the summer holidays, and forbid him to talk to the neighbours.

James: If the neighbours are anything like this lot, I doubt he'd want to talk to them.

Sirius: They locked away his broomstick? So the poor kid can't even play Quidditch? That's...that's just...words fail me.

Lily: There's a first time for everything.

Remus: Use your head, Sirius, if he's living with Muggles he couldn't play Quidditch anyway.

Sirius: I know, but it's the principle. I don't believe these people. I wonder if he got onto the house team?

James: Of course he did! He's a Potter, after all.

This separation from his spellbooks had been a real problem for Harry, because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work.

Sirius: This kid's priorities are all wrong.

James: Why do teachers always give so much holiday homework? Do none of them understand the point of the summer holidays?

Lily: Speaking as someone who knows what's coming in the next sentence, you might want to shut up and listen to this.

One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about Shrinking Potions, was for Harry's least favourite teacher, Professor Snape,

James and Sirius: What?!

Lily: Can I finish?

who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month.

Sirius: I bet he would, the slimy git.

James: It can't be Snivellus...can it? Who in their right mind would let him teach children? Especially my children?

Sirius: At least it says that Snape's his least favourite teacher. Harry appears to have his head screwed on right.

James: True.

Lily: You know, you two were always very hard on Snape. Maybe he's mellowed in his old age... All right, there's no need to snort at me like that, it was only a suggestion.

Remus: Is anyone else surprised he's teaching Potions?

James: I'm astonished he's teaching at all.

Sirius: Moony's got a point, though, you'd think he'd go for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Harry had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to

James: Play Quidditch.

Remus: Do cartwheels.

Sirius: Hopefully, throw themselves under a bus.

Lily: Sirius! That is not funny.

admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too),

Sirius: Show offs.

Remus: It just gets worse, doesn't it?

Harry had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of his books and hidden them in his bedroom.

James: Yes! Well done, Harry.

Sirius: Chip off the old block, eh, Prongs?

Remus: Juvenile delinquency and everything. You must be very proud.

Lily: You know, I'm not really sure if I disapprove of my son picking locks, or if I'm proud that he got one over on my sister.

James: You're proud. Come on, Lily, join the Dark Side! How can you not be proud of that?

As long as he didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night.

Sirius: Wow, blind and stupid as well as horrible.

Harry was keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment,

Sirius: Now, that doesn't sound like a Potter.

James: I know! I'm disappointed with you, Harry.

as they were already in a bad mood with him, all because he'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school holidays.

Remus: Well, at least he's got some people who care about him.

James: Of course he has! You expect him to be at Hogwarts for two years and not make any friends?

Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry's best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards.

James: See? 'One of his best friends'. That means he's got lots of friends.

Remus: Or at least more than one.

Lily: Weasley...he must be Molly and Arthur's son. One of them anyway, they've got three already.

This meant he knew a lot of things Harry didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

Sirius: Uh-oh.

James: What do you mean, 'uh-oh'? Surely he's allowed to talk to his friends?

'Vernon Dursley speaking.'

Lily: Well, that says it all, really.

Remus: Does it?

Lily: Absolutely. You can tell almost everything about a person by the way they answer the telephone, and that says to me 'pompous git'.

James: I think we already knew that.

Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Ron's voice answer.

'HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I - WANT - TO - TALK - TO - HARRY - POTTER!'

James: Do you have to shout like that?

Lily: I'm just doing what's in the book! It's in all capitals, see?

Ron was yelling so loudly that

Sirius: The horrible man's eardrums exploded.

Lily: We can but dream.

Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his

Lily: Don't even think about it, Sirius.

Sirius: I didn't say anything!

Lily: No, but you were about to. The next word is 'ear', not...anything else.

ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

'WHO IS THIS?' he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. 'WHO ARE YOU?'

'RON - WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football pitch.

Sirius: Quidditch pitch, surely?

'I'M - A - FRIEND - OF - HARRY'S - FROM - SCHOOL -'

James: Well, where else is he going to be a friend from if these gits don't let him talk to anyone during the holidays?

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swivelled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot.

Lily: Poor Harry. Vernon's going to go mad.

James: He's got no right to! Harry's not even related to him.

Sirius: And what did Harry do? Nothing!

'THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!'

Remus: And he's a liar, to boot.

he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode.

Sirius: Which it might well do with Prongs Junior about.

James: Prongs Junior? You know, I quite like that.

Remus: It's quite a mouthful, though. How about Mini-Prongs, or Pronglet?

James: Pronglet? You've got to be kidding, that's awful.

Sirius: Pronglet it is!

'I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!

Lily: Again with the lying! I wonder if my sister knows what she's letting herself in for.

Sirius: You know, I'd think she'd be less concerned about the 'liar' part of her husband's personality than about the 'being a horrible git' part.

NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!'

James: Why would he want to? I'd avoid them at all costs, personally.

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider.

James: I wish it was a poisonous spider.

Sirius: Yes, and it would bite him, and his hand would swell up and go all purple.

Remus: Then, after weeks of agony, his hand would eventually just drop off.

Sirius: Moony! Joining us on the Dark Side, are you?

Remus: Absolutely. This guy's awful.

The row that had followed had been one of the worst ever.

'HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE - PEOPLE LIKE YOU!'

James: Why shouldn't he? He lives there too.

Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit.

Sirius: Pleasant.

James: I feel quite sick at the thought.

Ron obviously realised that he'd got Harry into trouble, because he hadn't called again.

James: Well, I'm glad my son doesn't make stupid friends, anyway.

Remus: What about the telephone fiasco?

James: That's different, those things are tricky if you're not used to them.

Lily: Trust him, he knows what he's talking about.

Sirius: Ah, speaking from experience, are you, James?

James: Let's move on.

Harry's other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either.

Remus: I was right! He's only got two best friends.

James: Just because he's got two best friends doesn't mean he doesn't have lots of other friends. I'm sure he's popular, he's a Quidditch hero.

Lily: How do you know that?

James: He's my son, of course he's a Quidditch hero!

Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call,

James: See, an intelligent bit of reasoning too. I tell you, it's scary how much he resembles his Dad.

Lily: Something's scary, anyway.

which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harry's year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

Remus: I'm confused. What else is she going to say? If they don't let him talk to anyone during the holidays, he must only know people from Hogwarts.

Lily: She could probably pretend to be from Social Services, I'm surprised they haven't been onto the Dursleys already.

Sirius: What are 'Social Services'?

Lily: Never mind.

So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one.

James: Almost as bad? What could have happened last summer to make it worse than this?

Lily: I don't think I want to know.

There was just one, very small improvement: after swearing that he wouldn't use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time.

Remus: At least he's got an owl to keep him company.

James: That's the best we can do for him? 'He has an owl to keep him company'? Okay, Lily and I are dead, but how did everyone else let things get to this state?

Lily: You two had better hope like hell that you're dead, because if you're alive and letting this happen, I'm going to kill you myself.

Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by

James: Vernon singing in the shower.

Sirius: A pig grunting in distress.

Remus: Swing music.

Sirius: Okay, Moony, what is up with the swing music?

Remus: I don't know! I think my character's been misappropriated...

the distant, grunting snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley.

Sirius: Yay, I was closest!

It must be very late. Harry's eyes were itching with tiredness. Perhaps he'd finish this essay tomorrow night...

James: Or perhaps he'll put it off until the end of August, and end up finishing it on the first day of classes.

Lily: You're assuming he's taking after you. I think the fact that he's doing his essay when it can only be, what, July, is very encouraging.

James: That he's a swot, like you.

Lily: That he's going to get top grade NEWTs, and a very good job.

James: I got top grade NEWTs! And a good job!

Lily: Yes, but I have absolutely no idea how you managed that.

He replaced the top of the ink bottle, pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed, put his torch, A History of Magic, his essay, quill and ink inside it, got out of bed and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed.

James: Surely there's some sort of law against having the word 'bed' three times in one sentence?

Remus: There's something quite Freudian about it, really, I'm beginning to have doubts about this writer.

Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table.

It was one o'clock in the morning. Harry's stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realising it, for a whole hour.

James: Happy Birthday, Harry!

Lily: Happy Birthday, Harry!

Remus: Happy Birthday, Harry!

Sirius: He's a bit slow on the uptake, isn't he...? I mean, Happy Birthday, Harry!

Yet another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays. He had never received a birthday card in his life.

Sirius: He's thirteen and he's never had a birthday card? These people are...

Remus: Horrible?

James: Gits?

Sirius: I'm not getting repetitive, am I?

Lily: Yes. But you have a point.

The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one.

Everyone: Gits.

Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwig's large, empty cage, to the open window. He leant on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets.

Lily: Stop sniggering, Sirius. How old are you?

Hedwig had been absent for two nights now. Harry wasn't worried about her - she'd been gone this long before - but he hoped she'd be back soon. She was the only living creature in the house who didn't flinch at the sight of him.

Remus: They flinch at the sight of him? That's appalling.

Sirius: Urge...to...kill...rising...

James: Imagine growing up with people who can't even bear to look at you. That's worse than appalling, they need to invent a new adjective.

Lily: That's it, I'm disowning my sister.

Sirius: I vote we go round to theirs and kill them before any of this happens. All in favour?

Lily: That's a bit drastic, Sirius, but I'm glad you feel protective of Harry.

James: It's just a shame that you couldn't have been protective when it actually mattered.

Sirius: Hey! Chances are I'm dead, too! Otherwise I would have been there, Prongs, you can count on it.

Remus: As touching as this all is, could we get on with the story?

Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been: stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it.

Sirius: James' hair!

Remus: Poor kid.

James: Hey! Though I suppose you have a point. Of all the things to inherit, he gets Potter hair.

Sirius: And he's small and skinny. I bet he looks just like you. Like he doesn't have a rough enough deal already.

The eyes behind his glasses were bright green,

Lily: Good! He got my eyes to compensate.

Sirius: But he needs glasses. So he got your eyes, but James' eyesight? Worst of both worlds if you ask me...ow!

and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was perhaps the most extraordinary of all.

Remus: What's so extraordinary about having a scar? I've got tons of scars.

Sirius: Yes, but you're...

Remus: What?

Sirius: ...of the nocturnal persuasion.

Remus: Fair enough, but you've got a few scars yourself, and you're not a werewolf.

James: I didn't know you had any scars, Padfoot.

Sirius: Yeah, well, they're not in a place I normally display to the public.

James: Then how come Remus knows about them?

*Pause*

Remus: Um...

Sirius: Er...

Remus: Let's get on with the book, shall we? You're very quiet, Lily, are you all right?

Lily: I'm fine, I've just been reading ahead.

It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry's parents,

Sirius: What?

Remus: What?

James: What?

Lily: If you'll let me finish...

because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash.

James: Oh. Good.

Sirius: Well, it did seem unlikely.

Remus: Are you sure you're okay, Lily? You look a little odd.

Lily: I'm fine. I'll keep reading.

They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort.

James: Oh.

Remus: We probably should have been expecting that.

James: Well, there are worse ways to die. A quick AK and it's all over with, right?

Sirius: Do you have to be so flippant about it?

James: What do you expect me to do, burst into tears?

Sirius: Yes! Or, I don't know, something...

Remus: I thought you didn't believe any of this, Sirius?

Sirius: I didn't! I mean, I don't... Stop looking at me like that. Lily, keep reading.

Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, when Voldemort's curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator.

Everyone: What?

Sirius: I don't believe it...

Lily: I don't understand. How did he survive? Why did Voldemort try to kill him in the first place?

James: Forget Quidditch hero, the boy must be famous just for being alive.

Lily: James! That is not the point.

James: Sorry. Just trying to be positive.

Remus: So is Voldemort dead?

Lily: No, I don't think so.

Barely alive, Voldemort had fled...

But Harry had come face to face with him since at Hogwarts.

James: And he survived again? Go Harry!

Lily: How can he have met Voldemort at Hogwarts? That's ridiculous, there's supposed to be nowhere safer in the world! Especially with Dumbledore there.

Remus: Maybe Dumbledore's not there anymore. I mean, if Dark Lords can wander freely around the school, it doesn't look like it's quite the place it was. And would Dumbledore let Harry grow up with these sorry excuses for human beings?

Lily: You're right. Maybe something's happened to him, that would explain a lot.

Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday.

James: Luck, nothing. That's skill, that is. Takes after his Dad.

Sirius: Right. And how many Dark Lords did you face before you were thirteen, Prongs?

James: *Pause* That's completely beside the point.

Lily: Moving on... My throat's getting dry, does anyone else want to read for a while?

Sirius: Ooh, gimme! Is everybody sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.