Warnings: Canonical character death

Chapter One - The Last Day

The Dursley family was proud to a fault of how ordinary they were, from top to bottom. Their son was a good little tot, already deciding what he wanted and declaring it so. That very day, their son had learned a new word after upending his cereal: "won't" and though he made an incredible mess, it just meant he was developing a sense of knowledge and belonging and of himself.

To them, that was normal. To them, that was how things should be.

In Surrey, the world and its people focused on living with their jobs and playing each other as most would do chess. Few were interested in creativity and those who were didn't last long. They tended to leave for better, less rigid pastures. And Surrey, particularly Little Whinging, was proud of this sort of behavior.

Therefore Vernon Dursley left for work expecting a quiet, ordinary day. His cell phone buzzed of course, but that was merely his boss, reminding him of his one o' clock meeting and his friends inviting him for a pint this weekend. He debated accepting. One pint usually turned into at least three and with him being the driver, that could be fairly messy if it did not end well.

But he always looked for a chance to set himself in a good position, so he may as well accept.

A cat watched him walk to his car, brand new and barely lost its sheen to the rain. It was a tabby yes but something about it seemed somewhat off. As it padded across his wife's carefully fenced off garden, the strides seemed too wide, too heavy.

Perhaps it's a feral. They've been a problem recently, scaring babies and leaving their dead everywhere and getting into gardens.

He grumbled about this until he got into his car, at which point after leaving home and meeting oncoming traffic, he promptly forgot about the cat and the problems the cat brought into things. Instead, he embraced yelling at his fellow drivers about how they would make him late and would put him in poor standing with his boss.

That was until he saw, out of the corner of his eye, something land on the car beside him with a child on its back.

Even though his window, he could hear the child screaming and laughing delight as the great yellow creature took off onto another car.

The panic this time was enough to chill his guts.

No… no! This wasn't… it wasn't anything. Nothing of that other world with its extra gadgets and abandonment of tradition, no! Nothing freakish at all.

Certainly not those abhorrent monsters. No, he was just going to forget all about it.

And so he did, until lunch, when he'd decided to splurge and get a pastry from one of his favorite cafes. Mr. Dursley did not carry earbuds or wireless devices for his cell phone. He would rather not have one of the cursed devices at all. He would never know if a monster or something would pop out of it. If his phone didn't connect to his car, there were some days he couldn't start it. So he kept the thing reluctantly.

So unfortunately for him, he could not avoid hearing the whispers throughout the cafe from various people. Hooligans mostly, dressed with 'special clothes' or hoodies, probably had knives or lightsabers in their sweaters. Imbeciles. It was November on a workday. Look professional. Halloween was long passed, it was Monday for Christ's sake.

He was starting to wish that law on the table would simply pass and it would be done with already.

He reached the front of the line, when he heard softly, "The poor Potters…" from behind him. His blood chilled.

"Digitized, was it?" another said, older, but with that same soft reverence. "Nasty business, nasty way to go. Right in front of the crib I heard."

"Yes, their son Harry saw the whole thing. The poor child. He'll never spark at this rate…"

"But he's gone, yes?" A third voice joined the conversation and Mr. Dursley muddled through his order under the watch of surly, eyeshadow drenched eyes. The earrings glowed from her neck and he almost wrinkled his nose, trying to tune out the conversation. "He-The Cursed One, You-Know-Who-"

"Honestly, Janet, he has a name, you can use it."

"I'm not saying it where his people can hear me, you hatter. Besides, I doubt it's actually his name. What kind of chosen-"

The teenager shoved his cinnamon roll and coffee so hard into his hands, Mr Dursley jumped and nearly spilled the latter all over himself. Face flushing hard, he opened his mouth to make a scene, but then happened to glance at the clock. Counting the barista quite unlucky (he had many lessons for ungrateful children such as herself that they could do to take heed from.) he hurried back to work and buried himself in drills and tax forms and not thinking of the Potters.

They couldn't possibly be those people, after all. There were many Potter families, most of them poorly and having nothing to do with well to do people such as themselves. Drunken, misshapen, misguided lot.

Mr. Dursley finished his day in jittery strokes. He even stumbled on the way to his car, he was shaking so much. This would not do. Petunia, Petunia could not hear about this or if she did, only briefly. She was under quite enough stress as it was, yes. Quite.

And yet, now that he was home, he saw them everywhere now. He saw the figures of children dancing with things on their heads and their floppy ears, blue trails on their clothes as they ran down the streets, hooting and hollering with adults on their heels. Mr Dursley furiously kept on the road, shoulders hunched and eyes furious and small.

He was never so relieved to see the space of Little WHinging and Privet Drive so devoid of excitement in his life. And to think, he had once resented the place.

As he parked his car, his relief nearly whooshed out of him at the sight of that damned tabby cat.

"Shoo!" he shouted at it. It licked its paw and brushed its ear, ignoring him. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought the cat was scoffing at him.

How ridiculous. Cats didn't do that, no matter how strange they were. He would have to have Petunia call pest control in the morning if it wasn't gone before he left for work tomorrow.

Clinging to that thought like a raft, Vernon Dursley went inside.

Inside he was greeted by the sight of his son Dudley wobbling precariously against a truly ugly little table his sister had sent him as a housewarming gift. He plopped down a second later, but pride flushed his heart and sent all the… oddities of the day spiraling away into fatherly joy.

"Lookit you, Dudders!" he proclaimed. "Already trying to run the world, that's my boy."

Infant that he was, his son gurgled in appreciation (he presumed it was appreciation, all good children did that) and mumbled the few words he had grasp on.. Vernon, in a rare display of affection, picked up his son and carried him into the kitchen to see his wife, Petunia, closing the pot over what was likely potatoes. Petunia understood his love of potatoes on Mondays, which were usually the most exasperating days of the workweek. He was even able to smell the roast.

The thin purse of her sharp lips immediately evaporated into a smile at the sight of the two of them. "Welcome home."

And that was a relief to hear.

Sometime that night, as the Dursleys ate dinner and put themselves to bed, two people appeared in the well-lit street of Privet Drive. One appeared before the other, ropes of velvet leaving blue trails as he walked. Old lamp posts winked out as he passed them, refusing to come back on in the dark. Soon the streets were gloomy. No one looked of course.

The second was smaller, but no less distinct. He strode about in jeans and a tee shirt, two items of clothing that would be out of place on anyone past the age of twenty-two in this neighborhood. They valued traditional, natural values. Not the unnaturalness of the modern age.

Yagami Taichi examined the houses with a squinted gaze, a gray lock of hair flopping over one eyebrow. He half expected someone to run out and hiss in terror at the sight of the rainbow flag pinned lazily to his shirt. He should have worked harder.

Then again, he was in the presence of the famous (or infamous depending on who you asked) Albus Dumbledore. Years of it had lost its significant awe and luster. So he decided to speak freely.

"Here, sir?" he asked. "Have you been drinking Dreamer's Champagne again on your way here? I heard that's all the rage at these wild parties."

The old man chuckled, moving his head to keep his magnificent beard from touching the concrete. "No, unfortunately not. Though it would be nice to try some, I have learned my lesson after 1985."

Taichi nodded slowly, slipping his hands back into his pockets. Youth lifted the laugh lines from his face as he sighed. "Now I know how Koushiro felt…"

"Oh I'm certain he felt better, my boy."

Taichi rolled his eyes in the dark then looked up at the many sparkling stars. "So he's gone? That Lord Voldemort."

"For the moment." Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh. "I cannot say if he is gone for good, that would be too easy, would it not?"

Taichi paused to think Vamdemon's hulking forms and laughter straight out of a comic book, and then rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Yeah. But his threat's gone."

"Yes," he agreed. "So we must act as if he always will be, and take the necessary strides."

"While working as if he will return tomorrow." Taichi rubbed the back of his head. "Right. Got it." He wrinkled his nose as he cast a look around again. "So… why here?"

"His closest relatives are here. And they will agree to shelter him."

"And that will be all they do, Albus."

A woman's tart voice trailed across the street as the orange cat rose on its hind paws and shifted, A woman dropped from the wall, tartan robe swishing as she walked. Down hopped a much bigger version of said cat, who licked its paws irritably. Taichi's eyes flicked to it and then away, a long practiced, and long ignored, gesture.

"If that much," she finished when she reached them. She inclined her head. "Yagami."

"McGonagall." He glanced at the house she had come from. "That bad huh?"

"Insufferable woman, yes." She scoffed. "That infant of hers is spoiling like old milk and she is not much better. Yelling at the television over some such gossip. Such trivial nonsense."

"They weren't the ones actively in a war," Albus chided gently, smiling all the while.

"Sure they are," Taichi said with a shrug. "It's just one without flashing lights." He sighed. Should have brought Agumon with me. This place needs a giant yellow dinosaur.

People tolerated Barney, Agumon was harmless compared to him.

"The news has been giving some interesting details." McGonagall's nostrils flaring. "Shooting stars in Kent, rainbow lights in Malsbury, I even saw some monsters dancing on cars throughout my time here. It's a miracle no one reported anything."

"People have short memories sometimes." Taichi let out a yawn. "Or blinders." He put his hands back in his pockets, for lack of anything better to do with them. "So where is the baby wonder?"

"Hagrid is bringing him."

For the second time that evening, Taichi had the pleasure of seeing McGonagall twitch.

"So it's true then," she said, voice hoarse and raw and tired all at once. "Lily and James… they were…"

"Murdered, yes," Dumbledore agreed, bowing his head for an instant.

"And… and-" McGonagall's pauses were never out of fear, rather her choosing her words carefully. "He is dead as well then?"

"Voldemort is dead, yes," Dumbledore agreed. "As dead as someone like him can be."

McGonagall and Taichi shared a knowing look.

Dumbledore, as was his right, pretended not to see it. Instead he took a lemon sherbet from his pocket. "Would either of you like one?"

"NEver again," Taichi said, eyebrows high and eyes narrowed. He was never taking a sweet from the headmaster again, the last one Agumon had choked on it.

McGonagall shook her head as well, but was looking up at the sky. "Are you certain Hagrid is… trustworthy for a matter of this import?"

"I trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore replied, as solemn as a king.

Taichi rolled his eyes. "Yeah but do you trust these… muggles or whatever to not beat the kid? Minerva sounded pretty sure they were terrible."

"Because they bloody well are." McGonagall paused to cough. "The man has all the patience of a drunken suit of armor-"

"And his wife is worse," commented the digimon scratching their ear behind McGonagall's feet. "She let her kid scream his head off until it irritated a neighbor and gossiped so loud I could hear it when we went to explore the other yards! The snakes have a lot to say about this neighborhood, and I'll trust them over any humans who live here."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes but where else would be better? A society where the world knows his name? Where he is famous for something it is impossible for him to repeat? No, it is best for him to grow up away from that… it is not his burden to bear."

"I still think you could send him to my end," Taichi grumbled. "You're practically raising him to be devoured by those same jackals, you know that right?"

Dumbledore smiled a little. "I would have liked to take your offer, Taichi. However, being with yours will be little better. Our isolated war it may have been, it is not as though you do not have your own spotlight as well."

Taichi scowled and grumbled again, suddenly all the younger in his casual clothes and the twisting frown on his face.

Further conversation was cut off by the loud grumbles of a motorcycle as it roared across the sky and touched down in front of them.

"Do you reckon Black made it that loud on purpose?"

McGonagall snorted at the question and her digimon giggled in reply.

A giant of a man removed himself from the also gargantuan contraption, pulling the goggles away from his beady black eyes. "Pr'fessors," grunted the giant. "Yagami."

Taichi saluted and Dumbledore stepped forward, reaching for the side car. "Any trouble, Hagrid," asked the older man.

"Not 't all, cept for ol' Black running off like the devil got to his heels." Hagrid reached down and lifted up a small bundle swaddled in a blanket. "Fell asleep just as we got ter flyin' over Bristol."

He held the baby out to Dumbledore, who took it. The second his hands were free, he pulled out a handkerchief the size of a picnic blanket and blew his nose into it. It made a sound like an out of tune trumpet. Dumbledore reached out and patted him on the shoulder with one arm.

"It's only a temporary goodbye," Dumbledore tried to assure as McGonagall did the same with Hagrid's other arm.

"Not fer Lily and James, it's not!" Hagrid replied in a voice that even choked up made booms across the ground.

Dumbledore's smile turned thoughtful. "Indeed," he said, voice solemn and old. "Indeed." He pulled away, Taichi watched, with some reluctance.

Taichi let out a sigh. "Give the baby here, Professor. I'll do it."

His elder's blue eyes twinkled. "Why thank you, dear boy."

Taichi scoffed and gently took the small bundle away, along with the envelope that had come from the man's robe. That was awfully nice of him. He could have horrified them and sent an email explaining it all. But then, he supposed that even wizards could be old-fashioned in some ways. He paused a moment to flick one hand into his pocket, examining the front step with the interest of an architect. Only when it glowed a faint orange did he set the baby down onto it. The blanket shone white in the glow of the porch light, illuminating the far spread lightning shaped marks trailing down the baby's dark face.

Taichi lifted himself up as Dumbledore began setting the street to rights and the sobbing Hagrid began to move away.

"Hang in there, Potter," Taichi said quietly. "We take care of our own, but you've got some hell ahead of you."

The baby slept on, oblivious to it all, and would be so until Mrs. Dursley came out to throw away the recycling and shrieked loud enough to deafen a horse. But until then, he was seemingly an ordinary baby boy. He had no idea at this moment, that people were drinking in his honor, celebrating peace.

If only he had. It may have made his life a little easier to bear.

A/N: Hey guys I'm back! Still working on blizzard but I have been thinking about this fic for a while. It's going to be a slow goer too because honestly, HP AU. Longspanning. My goal is to complete book one before May in writing and post. And then complete two and write book three while posting and so on.

I'm not going to list all of the changes to the story or tag too much beyond essentials. Anyway, please read and review, it really helps me out! Please let me know if I'm capturing the tone of the books properly! Thanks so much!