Hey guys, I know it's been awhile, and while I had written many chapters for my other story, my flash drive decided to fuck up my files and I just didn't have the heart to rewrite 10 chapters based on my shoddy memory. But this one is new, and we have a new way of saving, so hopefully this one won't get ruined! Have many plans for this one, please don't judge too hard. The thing I love the most about Harry Potter, is the universe of opportunities it opened. As you probably guessed by the title, this story is VERY AU! Though bare with me as it ill be following the books closely until chapter 5.

Also, please note warnings; this may end up a trigger story. Mentions of: abuse, mentioned rape, language, possible? Smut in future (may end up in sequel. Haven't decided yet), self hatred. So please, if such things are a trigger, don't put yourself through that and don't read or read with caution.

I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Much is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter One

On a very normal looking street, in a very normal neighborhood, lived a fairly. While to many they were the very picture of normal; their perfectly normal clothes, normal haircuts, normal job with a very normal son. But they had a secret. See, Mrs. Petunia Dursley had a very un-normal secret in her family. Her sister Lily was a witch. The little freak had even married the Potter wizard! Then they had started their own freaky family, as if the world didn't have enough freaks in it without the helping. Petunia's husband, Vernon Dursley, knew of course of her freaky sister and her family. But they now had their own son to care for, who would never know of freaks like wizards and witches. In fact! They had decided to not even tell their dear Duddikins that she had a sister. It would be for the best. She didn't want her son wishing to know freaks like them.

But this was to change, and their picture perfect of normal was to come crashing down. As a figure appeared with a sharp crack, lights disappeared one by one until the normal street of Privet Drive was shrouded in darkness. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." Blue eyes twinkled at what appeared to be a tabby cat sitting on the corner. A blink, and it wasn't a cat at all but a severe-looking woman who looked quite ruffled at the man; Albus Dumbledore.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

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

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

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

The professor sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right." She said impatiently. "You'd think they would be 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 bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had such sense."

"You can't blame the," 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 down right 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 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 us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

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

"A what?"

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

"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-"

"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 lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"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."

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

It seemed Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain to that whatever "everyone" was saying; she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. 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 her 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 Potter's children, Harry and Anwen. But- he couldn't. He couldn't kill those little children. No one knows why, or how, buy they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Anwen Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded grimly.

"It's- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill two little children? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Anwen survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. 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. 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 and Anwen to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean- youcan't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got a son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Anwen Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when they're older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? Those people will never understand them! They'll be famous- legends- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as the Potter Twins day in the future- there will be books written about Harry and Anwen- every child in our world will know their names!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from it all until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, before swallowing and changing it again. "What of their will? I remember what Lily always said about her sister. Are you sure this is what they would want?"

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle with a sharp edge. "All of that has been taken care of, and I'm sure Lily would understand that it for the best for them to grow up here, instead of in our world."

Professor McGonagall got a dazed look before seeming to snap out of it and nodding. "Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how are the children getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his long, purple cloak suddenly as though she thought he might have hidden little Harry and Anwen underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them"

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

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

"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 broke the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of 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 in the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. Across his massive chest were two bundles swaddled and slung over his shoulders.

"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 to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"Only a little, sir- house was almost destroyed, but I got them out right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. Almost couldn't find little Anwen. Was under some wreckage and got a cut on the side of her face there. Been staring at me the whole ride. But little Harry fell asleep as we was flying over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the tow bundles of blankets. In the pink bundle, lay a baby girl, wide awake, but staring silently back with piercing green eyes and a large web of a lightening bolt over the left of her face fading into her jet black hair. Inside the blue blankets, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. A much smaller version of the same cut was barely visible under a tuff of hair matching his sister's.

"Is that where-?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, as he waved his wand over the still bleeding marks on the little girl. It closed, but seemed to refuse to fade and became an angry raised red, The same happened over little Harry. "They'll have those scars forever."

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

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

Dumbledore took little Harry as Professor McGonagall took Anwen and they turned toward the Dursley's house.

"Could I- could I say goodbye to them, sir?" ask Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over each child, and gave them what must've been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. While Anwen scrunched her face and stared at him silently, while Harry shifted restlessly. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

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

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

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door before joining him. They lay the children gently on the doorstep, before Dumbledore took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then they went to Hagrid. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light the usually shone in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"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 muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I'll 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 allowed all the lights back to their proper places and as the street glowed suddenly orange. He could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundles on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry, Anwen," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak and a crack, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky shy, the very last place you would ever expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled inside his blankets as Anwen continued to stare at the night sky, blinking owlishly. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and Harry slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were 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 they would spend the next few weeks being prodden and pinched by their cousin Dudley… They 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 and Anwen Potter- the twins who lived!"

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